Lumbulëssë Caita Estel
by Calimetaure
Summary: [LotRxSM] Set during Two Towers. As Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli search for Pippin and Merry, they are joined by one who was long forgotten from the minds of Elves ...
1. Boromir Departs, Another Enters

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a   
Type:   
Rating: PG

> **Note:** This is going up in honor of Girl-chama 'neechan, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something. Happy Birthday, GC-neechan! 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even **in** this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

Boromir Departs, Another Enters

A mighty horn sounded through the trees of Fangorn. The Ents heard it, but they did not stir. No Ent had been roused in many hundreds of years, as it was not their way to be involved in the affairs of others. One, however, who lived with the Ents but was not of their kind – an Elf yet not an Elf, a human yet not a human – was very near to the horn and did stir to see what was happening. 

"Hoom, hom ... It is not wise to hastily rush into the situations of others," Treebeard had advised. 

"Then I will go cautiously," she had replied, "But I must know what is happening to Fangorn." 

"Truly you posses the haste of Men, but the caution of Elves," Treebeard had sighed, "It is best to be rid of those hasty instincts, but yes, go. Bring back news." 

"I will." 

She had flitted off through the trees of her home, those many days ago, and had since been following the Fellowship of nine. She had witnessed the two little men separate from their party, brought on by the actions of one foolish, hasty human. She had seen him try to apologize. She now heard him and the other two little men fighting. The sounds of his horn grew weaker and more desperate. 

"Burárum!" she spat, "Those vile creatures are everywhere nowadays! What business have they in Fangorn? Following this Fellowship? Or merely to cut down Ents and trees as they please for entertainment?" 

The horn stopped. 

Many Orcs lay dead on the ground when she finally reached the fighting grounds. The human who had been the cause of the Fellowship's scattering lay, resting it seemed, leaning on a tree. On closer inspection, she realized that three Orc arrows pierced his skin and the horn lay in two pieces near him. His sword lay at his side. He had died fighting, as Men often believed they should. 

"But what business could he have had here?" she muttered, kicking aside the dead Orc bodies as she made her way to him. 

He stirred as she neared, and her hand immediately went to the knife hidden under her gray cloak. She stopped to watch him, for once heeding Treebeard's advice and taking her time to assess the situation. His eyes opened to stare fuzzily at her, and at once she knew he was dying. His companions would arrive too late. Immediately she moved to stand at his side, for it was her opinion that no one should have to die alone. 

"I have seen your face before," she murmured to herself, "Long ago, by the years of Men. You were but a boy then, Boromir of Gondor, son of the Steward." 

"Forgive me, I did not see," he said slowly, though he did not remember her. His eyes seemed to look through her, rather than at her. "I have been the cause of all this. I tried to take the Ring, and have driven off our Ring-bearer. I have paid." His eyes closed wearily for a minute as he spoke again. "The little ones: the Halflings: they've been taken. I do not think they are dead, for they were bound and carried off." 

"By Orcs?" she asked, unable to stop herself. 

"Aye, by Orcs," his eyes opened, blazing hate for the Orcs and himself, "I have caused all this pain. Oh, forgive me." 

Feeling unbearable pity and grief for the man, she moved to kneel over him and brushed some of the hair from his face, gently. Then she made as if to take out the arrows that pierced his body, but he put up a hand to stop her. 

"No. Leave them, for I am done. It is over: My people in Minas Tirith shall fall. I have failed." 

"Would it were that all could fail so gloriously, then," she replied, "Nay! you have not failed! Rest easy, now, for your companions will be found, your people will be saved. I promise." 

"You must be related to the Lady Galadriel, fair one," he smiled weakly, "I shall indeed rest easy having your words to go with me." 

"Lady Galadriel!" she gasped, "You know her?" 

But the man spoke no more, though he nodded and tried to, for his breath came in short gasps. She smiled bravely, kindly, masking her disappointment in the face of his pain, holding a finger to his lips to prevent him from talking. She lay her other hand on his temple, brushing his hair lightly. 

"Hush now," she said gently, "Be at peace. The one you call Aragorn will come soon, he will not let your people fall, and I will help him." 

"Thank you ... Elf-sister ... " he sighed, and he breathed no longer. 

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she reached forward to close his sightless ones, then bent her head in silent grief. Even as she kissed his brow, she could hear the Ents' disapproving words to her actions. She had always been a creature of emotion and haste, as they liked to remind her, despite all the time she'd spent among them. 

"Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath," Makoto intoned softly, and lowered her eyes. 

"Stand back from the mighty Boromir," ordered male's voice. 

She stiffened, then slowly stood, not turning to face the man. Her sharp hearing picked up the sounds of a sword being drawn from its sheath. 

"What have you done to Boromir? Where are the good Halflings?" he demanded. 

"I have done nothing to Boromir, but to comfort him in his passing," she replied, "Here lies a brave and valiant man." 

"You are either clever with words and in contact with the Orcs, or you are sincere. I am unsure as to which it is." 

"Burárum! Orcs?" she hissed, hand gripping at her dagger, "You dare accuse me of siding with Orcs! When they have come into my forest, as you have, and cut down both tree and Ent without a care?" 

"We have not cut down any tree." 

"But you have trespassed into my home." 

"We did not know." 

"Not many do." 

"Will you not turn around, then, and let me see your face," the man now asked, "So that I may know whose home I have wandered into?" 

There was a long pause where she seemed to be considering his proposition. But before she could answer, two others ran into the clearing where they stood, but stopped almost immediately. 

"We have hunted and slain many Orcs in the woods, but we should have been of more use here! Alas! What has happened here?" cried a new male's voice, and Makoto wondered why she thought the sound was familiar. 

"Frodo is nowhere to be seen, neither is Sam. Where are Merry and Pippin? Why does Boromir lie there?" asked another, then the noticed the cloaked figure, "Who is this? And what business does he have here?" 

"Peace, Gimli, peace. Let him speak first," said the other. 

She smirked and sighed internally. _'If they only knew, they would not be so quick to call me male.'_

"I would listen to your council readily, Legolas, however -- " 

"Legolas?" she asked suddenly, unable to stop herself, "Son of King Thranduil?" 

All talking stopped suddenly and gave way to a surprised silence. She stiffened again, cursing herself for once again not listening to Treebeard. Light footsteps walked nearer to her. 

"I am Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, yes," said a kindly voice, "Who are you? Why are you here? How do you know of me?" 

She turned around, slowly, wary of Aragorn and the axe wielding Gimli. Instantly she became aware that the three had suffered grievous loss, and knew it well. She looked into the clear blue, Elven eyes of Legolas. For his part, Legolas stared back; he looked confused and tired and worried. 

"I am here because this is my home. I know you, for you are the son of one who was a friend to my father, long ago. I am ... " she paused, trying to decide whether to give her real name or not. Finally she chose to give it; Legolas was her Prince, after a fashion. She tossed back her hood with a flick of her head, letting reddish-brown hair, tied into a messy thing on the back of her head that looked like a pony's tail, fall over her shoulders. "I am Makoto, daughter of Naoko and Erufailo," she said. 

Legolas frowned thoughtfully; replacing one of his long knives as he did so. Gimli and Aragorn watched the two with interest, but always Gimli had his axe ready, should this Makoto decide to attack his friend. 

"Then I am at a loss as to how you know me. I know the name Erufailo, but Naoko and Makoto are a mystery to my mind, and I knew nothing of Erufailo having a child," Legolas finally confessed. 

Rather than becoming angry or embarrassed, to their surprise, Makoto inclined her head and laughed lightly. Then she looked at them with a grave expression. 

"No, I did not expect you to know me. I have not been to Mirkwood, Imladris, or Lothlórien in many years. I would expect that it became forbidden to speak of me, at some point," a far away look came to her eyes, one of sadness, but it was quickly banished, "But this is not the time to speak of such things. The Orcs do not easily tire, and they must have orders for the Halflings you speak of to be kept alive, or to search for them would be in vain." 

"Then they are alive?" Aragorn asked, lowering his sword. 

"Aye, if what your late comrade says is true," she replied, drawing her cloak about her, "But come! You must need hold a parting for him, I shall set off to find your friends." 

"Just a minute! How do we know you won't go sneaking off?" Gimli asked suspiciously, stepping closer, "Though you claim to know Legolas, I see no reason to trust you, yet." 

Makoto studied him carefully, before nodding with a slight smile. "You should get on well with the Ents, I think," she mused out loud, "You are not hasty in your actions nor judgments. True, you have no reason to trust me, but to tarry here on suspicion alone is foolish! I cannot offer proof to ease your mind, but I can give you my word that no harm shall come to you or to your friends." 

A breeze filtered through the woods at that moment and seemed to fill Makoto's eyes with an ancient knowledge and sincerity that was common to Elves. Gimli gaped, for he suddenly saw she bore slight resemblance to the Lady Galadriel (though nowhere near as fair was this Makoto to Galadriel), and he nodded. 

"You speak fairly, as only an Elf can, to my thinking," he said in approval, "I will place my trust in you until you give me reason to do otherwise." 

She nodded, favoring him with a larger smile. "That is kind of you, Master Dwarf, and I shall not give you reason to mistrust me. But as I said, it is foolish to tarry here. Boromir, you called him – he fell defending the Halflings." 

"The Halflings!" cried Gimli, "Where are they then? Where is Frodo?" 

"Frodo?" she asked, "Who is he?" 

"He is our Ring-bearer," Aragorn answered, "I have not seen Sam either; he must have gone with his master. They are hobbits, or Halflings, as Merry and Pippin are." 

Makoto nodded solemnly and when she answered, she sounded weary. "I do not know where they are. Your Boromir told me that Orcs have bound them, and he did not think they were dead. We must go after them." 

"First we must tend to the fallen," said Legolas. "We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul Orcs." 

"But we must be swift," said Gimli. "He would not wish us to linger. We must follow the Orcs, if there is hope that any of our Company are living prisoners." 

"But we do not know whether the Ring-bearer is with them or not," said Aragorn. "Are we to abandon him? Must we not seek him first? An evil choice is now before us!" 

Makoto had been silent, but now she interrupted their debate. "I will go after your hobbit friends while you tend to Boromir. I shall leave a trail behind me; you will easily be able to follow it. As for your Ring-bearer, he has gone on. With the other hobbit you spoke of. I saw their boat sail away. They are safe." 

A visible ease passed over the faces of the three males and Makoto had to resist the urge to smile; for this was no time for laughter. Legolas studied her out of the corner of his eye, finally realizing that she had the same pointed ears as he! 

_'So she is an Elf ... but why then would I not know of her? Why would her name be forbidden?'_ he thought, frowning slightly. 

"Do first what you must do," Makoto said into the silence. "Though you have not the time or the tools to bury this man fitly, you must at least build a cairn." 

"The labor would be hard and long: there are no stones that we could use nearer than the water-side," said Gimli. 

"Then let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes," said Aragorn, looking to Makoto. "We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil creature dishonours his bones." 

Makoto nodded approvingly at them and smiled mysteriously. Her cloak still drawn about her, she nodded to them once more, then seemingly disappeared. The three males looked about warily, suspecting foul play, but were put to ease by her voice coming from the treetops. 

"I am off. Be swift, but not hasty. Follow the birds, they will lead you to me." 

"She is right," Aragorn said slowly, "We must do this now. See! Here we find tokens!" 

He held up two blades that had caught his eye from a pile of Orc weapons. They were leaf-bladed and damasked in gold and red. Searching further into the pile, he also found the sheaths, black and set with small red gems. 

"No orc-tools are these!" he said. "They were borne by the hobbits. Doubtless the Orcs despoiled them, but feared to keep the knives, knowing them for what they are: work of the Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor. Well, now, if they still live, our friends are weaponless. I will take these things, hoping against hope to give them back." 

"I do not think you need hope against hope, friend," Gimli said, gazing off to where Makoto had stood. "Something tells me in my heart that they will be delivered alive." 

Legolas too looked where Gimli stared, wondering why the half-Elf maid would be living here of all places. He frowned thoughtfully, but turned to Aragorn. "Take the knives, and I shall look for arrows. My quiver is empty." 

He searched the pile that Aragorn had found the hobbits knives in, but found no arrows that were undamaged. Then he searched through the bodies of other Orcs lying about and found a few arrows uncannily like his own. He looked at them closely, brow creased in thought. Aragorn looked among the slain Orcs and kicked some of them over. 

"Here lie many who are not folk of Mordor. Some are from the North, from the Misty Mountains, if I know anything of Orcs and their kinds. And here! Here are others who are strange to me. Their gear is not after the manner of Orcs at all." 

He pointed at four goblin-soldiers that were greater in stature and had thicker arms and leg and large hands. Their weapons were bows made of yew and broad bladed swords, rather than the scimitars that Orcs usually wielded. Their shields had a white hand in the center of them, and their helms were set with an S-rune made of some white metal. 

"I have not seen these tokens before," Aragorn said, puzzled, "What do they mean?" 

"S is for Sauron! That is easy to read!" Gimli said. 

"Nay," Legolas said softly, "Sauron does not use Elf-runes." 

"Neither does he use his right name. Nor does he permit it to be spelt, nor spoken," Aragorn sighed. "And he does not use white. The Orcs in his service wear the sign of the Red Eye. S must be for Saruman. There is evil afoot in Isengard, and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared: by some means the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. This means that he likely knows of Gandalf's fall." 

"Well we have no time to ponder riddles," said Gimli, impatiently, "Let us bear Boromir away! He should not have to linger too long on the ground!" 

"Yes. But after we must guess the riddles, if we are to choose our course rightly," returned Aragorn. 

"Maybe there are no right choices," said Gimli. 

"Do you listen to yourselves!" cried Legolas, "Have you forgotten the Elfling? She is already on their trail! Do not stand here arguing over riddles, we must hurry to follow her!" 

"You are right Legolas, but remember her words. 'Be swift, but not hasty', she said," the Dwarf said, but even as he spoke he took up his axe to cut branches, lashed together with bowstrings, to make a bier. They laid their cloaks on it, and carried Boromir to the shoreline upon it, with those trophies of his last battle as they chose to send him with. Aragorn stayed with the body of Boromir while Legolas and Gimli went back to find the boats. They came back nearly half an hour later, paddling two boats swiftly along the shore. 

"Here is a strange tale to tell," said Legolas. "There are only two boats upon the bank. We could find no trace of the other." 

"Have Orcs been there?" asked Aragorn. 

"There were no signs of them," answered Gimli. "And Orcs would have taken or destroyed all the boats, and the baggage as well." 

"Then truly Frodo and Sam have sailed away. They must have reached the eastern-shore while we held counsel with Makoto," said Aragorn as they laid Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him away. 

They laid his elven-cloak under his head and arranged his long hair on his shoulders. The golden belt of Lórien still gleamed about his waist. His helm was set beside him and the shards of the horn were laid upon his lap, with the hilt and bits of his sword. Beneath his feet were placed the swords of his enemies. Then they set the boat into the water, where it was taken by the stream and over the falls of Rauros. They watched the boat, standing as they were on the shore, silently for a while. Suddenly a gaggle of small white and brown birds appeared, twittering at them. The remaining company stared at them, torn between going after their Ring-bearer and after Merry and Pippin. 

"Frodo is gone," said Aragorn. "And Sam with him. If we seek them, we abandon the captives to torture and death. No, the Company has played its part. The fate of the Ring-bearer is in our hands no longer. I will follow the Orcs and the Elfling, may she lead us true. Come! Leave behind all that can be spared; we travel light!" 

They drew the last boat on to the shore and laid what they did not need of their belongings under it. Then they turned to look at the little, chattering birds. 

"'Follow the birds'," Legolas said quietly. He looked up at his companions, "Why then do we wait here? Lead on, little birds!" 

The birds cocked their tiny heads at him and, as if they understood, they took off, one by one, flying north. Though the trail of the Orcs needed little skill to find, Makoto was much more refined in her movements, and they would need the birds to know where to meet her. 

"No other folk make such a trampling," said Legolas. "It seems their delight to slash and beat down growing things that are not even in their way." 

"Indeed, for that is was Makoto was angry at me for," Aragorn chuckled grimly. "They go with a great speed for all that and they do not tire. If Makoto cannot, we may later have to find our path in the hard bare lands." 

"Well, after them!" said Gimli. "But it will be a long chase: they have a long start." 

"She will not fail," said Legolas, "she is an Elf. She moves as we do and is unhindered by packs as we are. If we are not careful, we shall wind up chasing her rather than Orcs." 

Makoto swung from tree to tree, cursing mildly when her cloak caught on branches from time to time. She hummed to herself, a song in a very distant language that her mother had spoken, kicking off from a branch and grabbing another. 

"Chi no hate made, kizutsuite mo, tatakau dake saa. Shinjiru nara, motomeru nara, tsukamitoru dake. Toikakete mo, toikakete mo, kuzurenai nara. Sore ga ... seigi da." 

Pausing for breath in one of her trees, Makoto surveyed the surrounding forest, listening for any noise of the Orcs. Very faint sounds of marching could be heard from a long distance ahead of her. Groaning inwardly but not really daring to step up her pace too much, Makoto began branch hopping once again. 

"The Burárum do not tire, and that is a shame," she thought. "Now I shall have to keep up my pace, and I will not be able to deliver the news to Treebeard. Better not to send news than leave the hobbits to the Orcs, though." 

She jumped to the ground and landed with barely a sound, stepping lightly for a while. Eventually she stopped at a clearing. 

"Yes, they should make their camp here for the night. They will reach it. But how to leave them a sign? Hmm ... I suppose I could ... no, I couldn't do that! Unless ... " 

Makoto sighed and walked up to a tree that was shedding some of its bark. Placing a gentle hand on it, she spoke, switching to the language of the Elves. The tree shuddered under her hand and a piece of the bark fell into it. 

"Thank you." 

Quickly scratching a few Elf-runes onto the bark with the tip of her knife, Makoto set it in a tree branch where they would find it with some help from their bird friends. Cocking her head, she heard the sounds of one of the seven coming down to land on her shoulder. She grinned and stroked the little bird's head and allow it to rest before whispering its new instructions and sending it flying again. 

"Take care, little one," she whispered. Then she was up into the trees again, and off to find the hobbits. 

It was nightfall when Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli came to the clearing Makoto had set aside for them as a camp. The little bird that flew ahead landed on the branch with the bark piece and chirped, and another one continued flying. Legolas took the message and held it aloft. 

"Look! She leaves a message -- we must stay here until dawn breaks. She is too far a head to join us tonight," he said. 

"You can read all that from those few Elf-runes?" Gimli asked. 

Aragorn sighed internally and walked around the camp, trying to find the orc-trail. For a moment he was at a loss for the orc-trail descended into the valley, and vanished. 

"Which way would they turn, do you think?" said Legolas, ignoring Gimli. "Northward to take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as you guess? Or southward, towards the Entwash?" 

"They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at," said Aragorn, "and unless there is much amiss at Rohan and the power of Sauron is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way they can find over the fields of the Rohirrim. We shall continue northwards, or whichever way the birds will take us." 

**Owari - chapter one**

Well, how do you like it? Please review! 

> **Other Notes:** The song that Mako-chan sings at one point is actually WuFei's song, _Grasp The Truth_, which means that it's not mine. Translation runs as follows: _I would only fight, even though I was hurt, to the end / I would only grasp it if I believe it in the end and if I'm searching for it / If it doesn't collapse even if I ask questions / Then that is justice_

Hey, what can I say? It seems like something she would sing to lift her spirits =-= And as for her little Elvish phrase after Boromir's death, that translation is thus, as according to the most reliable source on the web: 

> Hiro hon hîdh ab 'wanath 
> 
> Hiro (let) hon (he) hîdh (peace; lenited form of sîdh) ab (after) 'wanath (death; lenited form of gwannath) 
> 
> Let him find peace after death


	2. Hobbit Hunting

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope   
Pairing: n/a   
Type:   
Rating: PG 

> **Notes:** Here's where the chapters start deviating from the original book. You will notice that the first part of this chapter follows the book closely, but it will change towards the middle. This was done to fit everything within the seven pages, rather than seventy. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

Hobbit Hunting

The birds had led them to a dale between the hills and flown off. A small stream trickled through the boulders at the bottom, cliffs frowned down at them on their right, and the hills continued on endlessly to their left. Aragorn was searching, nearly bent over the ground, among the gullies leading up the western ridge, wondering again if this was a trap. Legolas was some way ahead, also searching; not only for their trail, but for some sign of Makoto. Suddenly the Elf gave a cry and the others ran to him. 

"Either we have already overtaken some of those that we hunt, or Makoto has. Look!" he said. 

He pointed, and they saw what they had first taken to be boulders were huddled bodies. Five Orcs lay dead there. They had been hewn with many cruel strikes, two had been beheaded, and one seemed to have been burned, and was still smoking. 

"Here is another riddle!" said Gimli. "But it needs the light of day, and for that we cannot wait." 

"Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful," said Legolas. "Perhaps Makoto has indeed caught up with them. Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends, anyway. Do any other folk dwell in these hills?" 

"No," said Aragorn. "The Rohirrim do not often come here, and it is far from Minas Tirith. It is possible that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons we do not know ... but that is not my guess." 

"Then what do you think?" Gimli asked. 

"I think the enemy brought his own enemy with him," answered Aragorn, "These are Northern Orcs from far away. None who lie here are of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel here: it is not uncommon with these foul folk to argue amongst themselves. Maybe there was some dispute about the road." 

"Or about the captives," said Gimli. "I think it is safe to hope that they did not meet their end here, too. Indeed, it seems as though Makoto found her way here, but she does not seem the type to behead anything; even an Orc." 

"But appearances are deceiving," said Legolas, "and Elves are not always delicate. She, though I perceive her to be an Elf, has not lived in any of our fair cities, but rather out here, in the forest of Fangorn. Who knows what she has been taught?" 

Aragorn searched in a wide circle, searching for the tracks to follow or traces of any more fighting, but could find none. They waited for the birds, but they did not come back, so the three went on. They walked further north until they came to a small fold in the hills with a tiny stream passing through a stony path it had made in the valley. The gaggle of birds were waiting there, chirping contentedly. 

"At last!" said Aragorn. "Here is the new trail! Up this water channel: the Orcs must have gone this way after their debate!" 

More swiftly then before, and having clear guidance from the little birds, the pursuers turned up the new path. They sprang from stone to stone until at last they reached the crest of the great hill. A sudden cold wind blew causing their cloaks to flap as the day broke in the east. The sun rose slowly over the hills, bringing life and color to the land before them. 

"Oh, Gondor, Gondor!" cried Aragorn, wistfully. "Would that I could look upon you again in a happier time. Not yet does my road lie south. Now let us go!" 

Forcefully drawing his eyes from the south he looked northwest, towards the path of the Orcs, and began to walk on. 

"Hold!" cried a female voice. 

The three of the Company spun around and were greeted with the sight of Makoto leaning lightly on a tree. 

"At last we meet again. I trust my friends have been guiding you true?" 

"A better set of guides we could not ask for," answered Aragorn. 

"Never mind our guides! What of the hobbits? Where are they?" Gimli demanded. 

Makoto laughed lightly and pushed away from her perch, stepping gravely in front of them. 

"They are still very much alive. The Orcs have been given some instructions otherwise they would not be as ... well treated ... as they are, in Orc fashion. I tried, but I was unable to free them when I at last over took them." 

"The battle scene back that way," Legolas murmured. 

"Yes. You must rest now, for at least the first hour of dawn. It will be all for naught if you should chance upon the Orcs, weary, as you must be. They are in the most foul of moods." 

The ridge on which the four stood continued down steeply before them. Below it was a wide and rugged shelf that went on for nearly twenty fathoms until is ended abruptly in a sheer cliff: the East Wall of Rohan. There was where the Emyn Muil ended, and the seemingly endless green plains of the Rohirrim began. 

"Look!" cried Legolas, pointing to the sky above them. "There is the eagle again! He is very high. He seems to be flying away north, he is going with great speed. Look!" 

"No, not even my eyes can see him, my good Legolas," said Aragorn. "He must be far aloft indeed." 

"Master Legolas is right," said Makoto, scanning the skies. "I too, can see him. But very faintly, for he is quickly disappearing." 

"I wonder if he is the same eagle I have seen before, and what his errand is. But look! I can see something nearer at hand, and far more urgent. There is something moving over the plain!" 

"Many things," said Legolas, "It is a great company on foot, but I cannot say more, nor see what folk they may be." 

"The Riders of Rohan!" cried Makoto excitedly. "You will be in good hands with them, if they do not shoot at you first. They will give you food, should you require it! You must seek them out, I will continue ahead and search for the hobbits." 

"Nay!" Gimli cried. "We will go with you! They are our charges, we will help to find them. Let us find a path down to the fields quick as can be." 

"I doubt if you will find a path quicker than the one the Orcs chose," said Aragorn. "We will follow you however you chose to lead us." 

Makoto looked at him searchingly before nodding. "You are trusting, but hasty. Very well. We will take this path." 

They followed their enemies by the clear light of the sun. The Orcs had pressed on through the night with all possible speed and every now and then the pursuers found things that had been discarded along the way. The trail led them north along the top of the escarpment until they came to a cleft carved in the rock by a stream that splashed down. There in the ravine a narrow path descended and at the bottom they came to the grass of Rohan. The stream vanished under large growth of water plants, but they could hear it as it bubbled toward Entwash Vale. To the three of the Company, it seemed as if they had left winter clinging to the forest behind. The air was softer, warmer, and faintly scented of a new spring. Legolas breathed deeply, a blissful smile on his face. Makoto watched him, looking amused at his reaction. 

"Ah! the green smell!" he said. "It is better than sleep! Let us run!" 

"Aye, and light feet may run swiftly here," said Aragorn. "More swiftly than the iron-shod Orc foot. We may have our chance to lessen their lead." 

They ran single file, Makoto in the lead. To Gimli she appeared to be flying across the plain, but the, he thought, she ran through it often. A new, eager light was in their eyes, a new hope was slowly dawning within them. Next to them could be seen where the Orcs had tramped their ugly path; the grass of Rohan was blackened and bruised. Presently Aragorn stopped and gave a cry. 

"Stay!" he said. "Do not follow me yet!" 

He ran quickly to the right, off the main path; for he had seen footprints that went off that way, breaking away from the others. They were made by small, unshod feet. They did not manage to go far before being intercepted by orc-prints, which came both from behind and in front. Then they curved sharply back and were lost in the other prints. At the furthest point Aragorn stopped to pick up something, then he ran back to the others. 

"Yes," he said. "They are quite plain: a hobbit's footprints. Pippin's I think, he is smaller than the other. And look at this!" 

He held up something that glittered in the sunlight. 

"The brooch of an elven-cloak!" cried Legolas and Gimli together. 

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," said Aragorn. "This did not drop by chance: it was cast away as a token to anyone who might follow. I think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose." 

"Then we do not pursue in vain!" said Gimli. "This is heartening." 

"Let us hope he did not pay too dearly for his boldness," said Legolas. "Come! Let us go on! The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart." 

They turned back to their guide only to find that she was gone. Two of the birds that had originally been their guides fluttered in the air overhead. Gimli made a noise and muttered something about illusions. Legolas started a bit, but it passed quickly. 

"Just like an Elf, yet she is too silent," he said and smiled ruefully. "Come then! She still guides us, and guides us true!" 

The sun rose to its peak and slowly sank down, stretching the shadows of night over the plain before them. Still the pursuers pushed on. It was now one full day since the passing of Boromir. Only when nightfall closed fully around them did Aragorn pause. 

"We have come at last to a hard choice," he said. "Shall we rest here tonight, or shall we continue on while our strength still holds?" 

"Unless our enemies rest also, they will leave us far behind if we stay to sleep," said Legolas. 

"But even Orcs must pause on the march!" cried Gimli. 

"Seldom do Orcs journey under the sun," Legolas reminded him, "yes these have done so. They will not stop tonight." 

"But if we walk by night, we cannot see their trail." 

"The path is straight as far as my eyes can see, and we have our friends here to guide us." 

The Elf paused to ruffled the feathers of the little bird that had perched on his shoulder to rest. The other one had settled itself on Gimli's helm. 

"There is this also," said Gimli: "only by day can we see if tracks lead away. If a prisoner should escape, or if one should be carried off, eastward, say, to the Great River, towards Mordor, we might pass the signs and never know it." 

"That is true," said Aragorn. "But if I read the signs back rightly, it was the Orcs of White Hand who claimed victory. The whole company must now be bound for Isengard." 

"Yet it would be rash to be sure of their counsels," said Gimli. "And what of escape? In the dark we should have missed the signs that led you to the brooch." 

"The Orcs will be doubly on their guard since then," said Legolas sharply. "And the prisoners even wearier. There will be no escape if we do not contrive it. Or if our guide has not made it before we catch up to them. Yet we must overtake them, either way." 

"And yet even I, Dwarf of many journeys and most hardy of my kind, can not run all the way to Isengard without my pause!" rejoined Gimli. "My heart burns me too, and I would have started sooner, but now I must rest a little to run better. And if we rest, better to do it in the blind night when we cannot see anyway!" 

"I said that it would be a hard choice," said Aragorn ruefully. "How are we to end this debate?" 

"You are our guide," said Gimli, "and you are skilled in the chase. You shall choose." 

"My heart bids me to go on," said Legolas. "But we must hold together. I will follow your counsel." 

"You have given the choice to an ill chooser," said Aragorn. "Since the Argonath all my choices have gone amiss." He was silent for a long time, simply gazing into the west and staring at the night. "We will not walk in the dark," he said at length. "The peril of missing the trail or signs of Makoto or other coming and going seems to be too great." 

"Would that the Lady had given to us the gift of light such as she gave Frodo," murmured Gimli. 

"It will be more the needed in Mordor. With Frodo lies the true Quest, with us lies but a small matter in the great deeds of time," said Aragorn. 

With that he all but threw himself to the ground and at once fell asleep, as he had not done since they had left the forests of Lothlórien. Gimli, too, quickly fell asleep, but for Legolas sleep did not come until much later. 

"Hoom, hm. Halflings, you say?" Treebeard asked, stroking his mossy beard. 

"Aye, that is what their companions called them. Merry and Pippin they said their names were. The Halflings have been captured by Burárum, or so they say. They were quite free with their information, actually, not like Ents at all." 

Treebeard smiled down slightly at Makoto. He placed a fatherly hand on her cheek and caressed it slightly before looking away. She followed his gaze, north-west, where she knew he was watching the Orcs travel on. 

"You are not like an Ent either, Lintëmi Súrë," he said. "These Halflings will need to be found, and swiftly, but not hastily. It would not do to allow them to die at the hands of Burárum. Go then, and bring them back." 

"I will," she promised. 

And Makoto was off again, flitting through the trees as she had gone and come again before. The old Ent watched her until he could not see the rustling of the treetops that signaled her trail. He sighed. 

"I have become far too hasty because of that half-Elf," he said. "I must calm myself before making another judgment." 

And he stood under the little stream that trickled down over his home. 

When Aragorn awoke it was just before dawn. Gimli beside him was still in a deep slumber, but Legolas stood apart from the group, standing and staring northwards. Aragorn thought he looked rather like a young tree in a windless night, silent and thoughtful. 

"They are far, far away," said Legolas suddenly, sadly, turning to Aragorn. "My heart tells me that they have not rested this night. Only our friend eagle could overtake them now." 

"Unless Makoto already has," Aragorn said, chiding gently. "She has lived here much longer than we have been visitors, and she left us after the brooch was found. There is the possibility that she has already found them. We will follow as we may." Crouching to the ground he woke their friend Dwarf. "Come! We must go. The scent grows cold," he said. 

"But it is still dark," said Gimli. "Even Legolas on a hilltop could not see them till the Sun is up." 

"I fear that they have passed from my sight from hill or plain, under Moon or Sun," said Legolas sadly. "If only I had wings that I might be swifter." 

"Where sight fails, the earth may give us guidance," said Aragorn. 

He stretched himself upon the ground, his ear pressed to the soil under the grass, looking very much a fool. He stayed there for so long that Gimli wondered if he had perhaps fainted or fallen asleep. Dawn finally broke, sending rose colored light to chase away the dark of night, and at last Aragorn stood. Legolas and Gimli both could see that his face was pale and his look troubled. 

"The earth is dim and confused. Nothing walks on it for many miles, and the feet of our enemies are faint and far away. However, loud are the hoofs of the horses. Now I remember hearing them, even as I slept, and they haunted my dreams. Horses galloping, passing into the West. But now they have turned, and are riding northwards, and are riding ever further from us. I do wonder what is happening to this land." he said. 

"Let us go!" said Legolas. 

And thus their third day in pursuit of the Orcs and hobbits began. During the long hours of the day, some filled with clouds, others with sun, now running, now walking, they moved on. Seldom speaking and hardly pausing they went, as if nothing could stop them and no amount of weariness could slow them. Over the wide fields they traveled, each wondering what had become of their friends and their guide, often thanking the Lady of Lórien in their hearts for the lembas, without which they might not have found the strength to continue. To a passerby their elven-cloaks would have appeared to fade into the gray-green fields; few but elvish eyes would have been able to mark them until at a close distance. 

All day long the track led north-west without turning or breaking. Only as the day drew to its end did they find a change of terrain. They came to long treeless slopes, where the orc-trail grew fainter as it turned north, the ground here was harder and the grass shorter. Far to left the river Entwash flowed and no moving thing could be seen. Often Aragorn wondered that they saw no sign of man or beast. The dwellings of the Rohirrim were for the most part very far to the South, hidden under the White Mountains; yet the Horse-lords had formerly kept many herds in the Eastemnet, this part of their realm. Here the herdsmen had wandered much, living in tents through the winter, but now the land was empty. The silence was not that of peace. Only at dusk did they halt, twenty-four leagues over the plains of Rohan. The wall of Emyn Muil was far behind them in the shadows of the East, and though the moon was visible, it gave only small light and the stars were veiled by the misty skies. 

"Now do I grudge any time of rest or halt in our chase," said Legolas. "The Orcs have run before us as if Sauron himself was after them. I fear they have already reached the forest and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees." 

"This is a bitter end to our hope and toil," Gimli growled through clenched jaws. 

"To toil, perhaps, but not to our hope," said Aragorn. "Or to hope, but not our toil. As yet we still have Makoto to place our hope in, and we shall not turn back here." 

"You talk of Makoto often yet we have not seen her for twice twelve hours," rejoined the Dwarf, "How are we to know that she still aids us, if she is not dead?" 

"You speak of one you know not!" cried Legolas: "You cannot judge her!" "And you speak as from one Elf to another. You know her not, either, yet you defend her position." 

"You too defended her position not six hours ago," Legolas reminded the Dwarf sharply. 

"Stop this foolish squabble!" cried Aragorn. 

Both Elf and Dwarf ceased their talk and turned to look at their companion. Never before had he raised his voice to any but an Orc. 

"If we allow time to pass away here, we may well be giving up our last chance of finding our companions," said Aragorn. "I will not let that happen! Nay! We shall not turn back from here, Gimli. And yet, I am weary. Weary as I have never been before." He turned to look back East, back at the trail they had taken. "There is something strange at work here. I distrust the silence, I distrust the Moon, the stars are faint, and I am weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some force that speeds along our foes and places a barrier before us. I feel a weariness in my heart, moreso than in my limbs." 

"Truly!" said Legolas. "That I have known since we descended from Emyn Muil. This will is not behind us but before us!" 

He pointed West over the darkening lands of Rohan. To Isengard. 

"Saruman," muttered Aragorn. "But he shall not turn us away, though we must halt once more. See! Even the Moon gathers clouds to veil it! However, north lies our road when day comes again." 

As it had been last time, Legolas was first awake, if he had slept at all. 

"Awake! Awake!" he cried. "It is the dawn! Strange things await us by the forest. Good of evil I do not know, but we are meant to go. Awake!" 

The others sprang to their feet, shaken from sleep, and nearly at one did they set off again. It was an hour before noon when they reached the downs. The green slopes rose to bare ridges and ran in a straight line North. Under their feet the ground was dry and the grass short, but before them a strip of sunken land lay between them and the river. It was some ten miles wide and wandered deep into the thickets. To the West of the southernmost slope was a great ring where the orc-trail turned north along the dry skirts of the hills. Aragorn paused and bent to examine the tracks closely. 

"They rested here a while," he said, "but even the outward trail is old. I fear your heart spoke the truth, Legolas: it is thirty six hours since the Orcs stood where we now stand. If they kept their original pace then I approximate at sundown yesterday they reached the borders of Fangorn." 

"So it is out of our hands, and into Makoto's?" said Legolas with a heavy sigh. 

"I can see nothing north or west but grass," Gimli interrupted. "Could we see the forest, if we climbed the hills?" 

"It is still far away," said Aragorn. "If I remember correctly, the hills run near eight leagues to the north, perhaps more, and north-west of Entwash there is perhaps fifteen leagues of more land." 

"Well, let us go on," said Gimli stoutly. "My legs must forget the miles, though they would be more willing if my heart was not so heavy." 

And so they continued on in pursuit. The sun was sinking when they finally drew to the end of the hill range. For many hours they had marched without rest, and they were going slowly now, and Gimli's back was bent. Dwarves may be stone-hard in labor and in journey, but this seemingly endless chase began to take its toll on him, even as all hope died in his heart. Aragorn walked behind him, grim and silent and stooping only now and again to inspect some print of mark on the ground. Only Legolas still stepped lightly, as is the way of Elves, leaving no footprint on the ground as he passed. In the lembas he found all sustenance he needed and he could sleep by resting his mind in the paths of elvish dreams while walking open-eyed. 

"Let us go up on this hill!" he said. 

Wearily they followed him, climbing the slope, until they came to the top. The hill was round, smooth and bare, and it stood alone in the northernmost section of the downs. The sun went fully below the western horizon and the curtain of night fell upon them, alone and in a formless world of grey without mark or measure. Only far away north-west there was a deeper darkness than that which they were closed in: the Misty Mountains and the forest at their feet. 

"Makoto is down there," said Legolas softly. 

"You know this?" Gimli asked. 

"I feel it," the Elf replied vaguely. "This is her home. She will take good care to find Merry and Pippin and bring them to safety, though it may not be with us." 

"Yes, well, nothing I can see to guide us to her," said Gimli. "Now we must half again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!" 

"The wind is north from the snows," said Aragorn. "And come morning it will be in the East," said Legolas. "But rest, if you must. Yet do not cast all hope away, for tomorrow is unknown. Rede is often found with the rising of the Sun." 

"Three days have already passed, and yet no rising of the Sun has brought us counsel," said Gimli. 

They slept fitfully, save Legolas, though the night grew ever colder. Whenever Gimli and Aragorn awoke they saw the Elf standing beside them, or pacing, singing softly to himself in his given tongue. As he sang the stars opened in the black sky above, and so the night passed. 

Makoto watched the two child-like males wander through Fangorn from her perch high in a tree. She assumed they were Merry and Pippin, the hobbits, but she was for once following Treebeard's counsel and waiting for the proof. They moved as quickly as they could, with all the hindrance of the forest and their fear of Orcs causing them to stumble now and again. Deeper into Fangorn they delved, following the running stream westward up the slopes of the mountains. Only after an hour, and when as their fear of the Orcs lessened, did they finally lessen their pace. 

"We can't go on like this," said one. He stopped and leaned on a tree. "I want some air." 

"Let's have a drink," said the other. "I'm parched." 

Makoto watched the second speaker clamber onto a tree-root and wound into the stream. He cupped his hands and let them fall into the water. She watched him sigh in relief and bring his hands up to his mouth to drink. She knew the water to be clear and cool, but not too cold, having stopped to drink from it many times herself, and smiled slightly as she watched him take many draughts too quickly and splutter a bit. The other laughed and followed his friend's lead, and the water refreshed them and seemed to cheer them. For a long while they sat at the edge of the stream, allowing the cool water to run over their sore feet and looking at the army of trees that surrounded them. 

"I wonder if they shall be like little Orcs after their time with them, and yet I think it not possible," Makoto mused aloud. "I shall only watch them now, and be their guide as I have been their companions." 

"I suppose you haven't lost us already?" said the one who first drank, leaning back against the great tree trunk. "We can at least follow then course of this stream, the Entwash or whatever you call it, and get out again the way we came." 

A slight rustling of leaves, seemingly from the wind, would have alerted them to the sight of an Elfling falling from a tree, had they not been more worried about their current position. 

"Varda, tell me they weren't talking to me!" Makoto thought, pressed tight to a tree. She still watched them, and relaxed only after five minutes had passed and neither asked her to come out from her watching place. Then she climbed back up the tree. 

But they weren't talking to her, for the first speaker's companion had turned to him slightly and smiled grimly. 

"We could, if our legs would do it, and if we could breathe properly." 

"Yes, it is rather dim and stuffy in here," said the other. "It reminds me a bit of the old room in the Great Place of the Tooks, back in the Smials at Tuckborogh. It was a huge place, where the furniture has never been moved or changed for generations. They say that Old Took lived in it, and he and the room grew older and shabbier together, so the room has not been changed since he died a century ago. But that is nothing to the old feeling of this wood. Look at all those beards of lichen! Most of the trees seem half covered with dry leaves that have never fallen. Untidy. I can't imagine what spring looks like here, if it ever comes." 

"Still, less a spring-cleaning," chirped Makoto from the cover of the trees. 

The two hobbits sprung around to search for the source of it, even as they felt themselves relax, for the laughter that followed could only be from one such as an Elf. When they deemed they could not see anyone, they turned back to face the other and, though warily, continued onwards to where they could just faintly perceive a large hill. Makoto smiled to herself in relief, she had thought that surely she would have been found out. The hill was farther away than the hobbits had originally estimates, and no trees grew on it, though the sun fell fully on its face. Where all had been bathed in grey before, now the wood gleamed with rich browns and black-greys of bark and soft green leaves. In the face of the hill (though the hobbits found it more a stony wall than a hill) were something like stairs, seemingly made by the weathering of time. 

"Up we go!" said Merry joyfully. "Now for a breath of air, and a sight of the land!" 

**Owari, chapter two**

One thing to all potential reviewers: review the story and not my profile/bio, please. 

> **Other Notes:** To "B": I didn't accuse people of being Mary-Sues; that's impossible. I did, however, accuse them of **writing** Mary-Sues, and namely, turning Usagi into a Mary-Sue. I do read stories that feature the other Senshi rather than those that feature Usagi, however, not all people mention that they focus on Usagi in their summaries and thus, I don't KNOW that those are Mary-Sue-Usagi stories to begin with. 
> 
> Also, this chapter deviates from the original book greatly and may not make sense to you all. However, have no fear, it shall all be explained in the following two chapters and then my story and the original book shall join again and make perfect sense =-=


	3. The Riders of Rohan

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope   
Pairing: n/a   
Type:   
Rating: PG 

> **Notes:** To Athena: No, the other senshi will most likely not be making an appearance. It's hard enough fitting Makoto into the plot that I'd probably wind up insane before I could fit in the others. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

The Riders of Rohan

Together did Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli watch the dawn grow in the sky, which was now cloudless, until the full sunrise came. The day bloomed pale and clear, the wind was in the East, and all the mists had rolled away. The wide lands lay bleak about them in all directions. Ahead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of the Wold of Rohan that they had seen before from the Great River. North-west there lay the dark forest of Fangorn: still ten leagues away stood the shadowy trees, and the further slopes faded into the distant blue. Beyond there glimmered the white head of Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains. Out from Fangorn the Entwash flowed to meet them, it's stream swift and narrow. The orc-trail turned from the down towards it. 

Following the trail to the river, and then from the river back to the forest with keen eyes, Aragorn saw a shadow upon the green. It was a dark and fast moving and so Aragorn threw himself to the ground, listening intently. But Legolas stood next to him, shading his bright elven-eyes from the sun with a slender hand and saw not shadows or blurs, but tiny figures of many horsemen with the glint of the morning on their spear tips. Far behind them dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. Through the silence in the empty fields, even Gimli could hear the air moving through the grass. 

"Riders!" cried Aragorn, springing to his feet. "Many riders on swift horses are coming towards us!" 

"Yes," said Legolas, "there are one hundred and five. They have bright spears and yellow hair, and their leader is very tall." 

Aragorn smiled. "Keen indeed are the eyes of Elves," he said. 

"Nay! These riders are very near to five leagues from us," said Legolas. 

"Five leagues or one," said Gimli, "we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait from them here or go on our way?" 

"We will wait," said Aragorn. "I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us, and they are riding back down the orc-trail. These may well be the Riders of Rohan Makoto so wanted us to wait for. We may get news from them, either way." 

"Or spears," said Gimli. "There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits," said Legolas. 

"I did not say that we would hear good news," said Aragorn. "But bad or good we will wait it here." 

The three companions left the hilltop where they would be an easy target in the bright sun, against the pale sky, and walked slowly to the north slope. A little above the hill's foot they halted, wrapped their cloaks about them, and sat huddled together on the grass. The time passed slowly, the wind thin and searching, and Gimli was uneasy. 

"What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?" he said. "Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?" 

"I have been among them," answered Aragorn. "They are proud but true-hearted, generous, and bold but not cruel. They are wise but none have taught them, they write no books but sing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. I do not know what has happened here of late, nor how the Rohirrim think of the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not kin. It was in long forgotten years that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North and kinship is with the Bardings of Dale and the Beornings of the Wood. At least they will not love the Orcs." 

"But Gandalf spoke of a rumor that they pay tribute to Mordor," said Gimli. 

"I believe it no more than Boromir did," answered Aragorn. 

"You will soon learn the truth," said Legolas. "They approach even as we speak." 

After a time even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, still following the trail, had turned from the river and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind. The cries of clear and strong voices suddenly came ringing over the fields and even more suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder. The foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him rode the rest: a long line of mail-clad men. They were swift, shining, and both fell and fair to look upon. 

Their horses were of great stature, strong and their grey coats glistened even as their tails flowed in the wind and their manes were braided upon their necks. The Men that rode them nearly matched them: tall and long-limbed; their yellow hair flowing from under their light helms and streamed in long braids behind them. Their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were long spears made of ash. Painted shields were slung across their backs, while long swords were sheathed at their belts. They galloped by in pairs, and though every now and then one would rise in his stirrups to gaze ahead at either side, they appeared not to notice the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost fully passed when Aragorn suddenly stood up and called in a loud voice: 

"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?" 

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli soon found themselves surrounded in a ring of horsemen, created through astonishing speed and skill. Aragorn stood silent and the others stayed sitting, each wondering how things would turn. Without word or cry or signal the Riders had stopped about them, and shining spear points came at them from all directions. Some of the horsemen had bows, too, with arrows already fitted to the string. Now one man, taller than the rest, rode forward, and advanced until the point of his spear was only a foot from Aragorn's chest. Still Aragorn did not stir. 

"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" he asked, using the Common Speech of the West. 

"I am called Strider," answered Aragorn. "I came out of the North and I am hunting Orcs." 

The Rider leapt down from his horse. Another quickly rode up and dismounted next to him, and took his spear as he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn. He inspected Aragorn closely and not without wonder, and at length he spoke again. 

"At first I thought you were with the Orcs," he said; "but now I see this is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you are hunting them in this fashion. There were many, and they were well armed and fast. You would have quickly become their prey, rather than their hunters, should you even have over taken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider." 

Aragorn found himself once again under the clear, bright eyes of the Rider, who had been surveying the others as well. 

"Yours is no name for a Man. And stranger is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass, for how else did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?" 

"No," said Aragorn. "Only one among us now is an Elf, Legolas of Mirkwood. The other was one who lives in the forest of Fangorn, but she has since passed from our company. We have gone through the woods of Lothlórien, and the gifts of the Lady go with us." 

The Rider looked at them with a new sort of wonder, but his eyes hardened. 

"So there is a Lady of the Wood, as the stories tell," he said. "Few escape her nets, they say, and these are strange days. If you hold her favor, then perhaps you are net-weavers and sorcerers too." Suddenly he turned his cold glance to Legolas and Gimli. "Why do you not speak, silent ones?" he demanded. 

Gimli now rose and spread his feet apart and held his axe ready. His dark eyes flashed. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more." 

The Rider stared at the Dwarf, "Oh? Oft it is the stranger who gives his name first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark." 

"Then Éomer son Eomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You would speak evil of that which is far beyond the reach of your thought, and only stupidity can excuse you." 

Éomer's eyes blazed and the Men of Rohan muttered angrily as they advanced on the three companions. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if you stood but a little higher," said Éomer. 

"He may stand short, but he does not stand alone," said Legolas. He fitted an arrow to his bowstring with hands that moved quicker than sight. "You would die before your own stroke fell." 

Éomer raised his sword and things might have gone bad, but Aragorn leapt between them with his hands raised. "Your pardon, Éomer!" he cried. "When we explain it you will understand why you have angered my companions. We mean no evil toward Rohan, nor any who live there, man or horse or otherwise. Will you not hear me out before you strike at us?" 

"I will," said Éomer lowering his sword. "But those who wander into the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your real name." 

"First tell me who you serve," said Aragorn. "Are you friend of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, or are you his enemy?" 

"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel," answered Éomer. "We do not serve the Power of the Black Land, but neither are we yet openly at war with him. If you are fleeing from him, you had better leave this land. There is trouble threatening all our boarders; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, serving no other lord – good or evil. We welcomed guests more kindly in the better days, but now strangers come and find us stern and hard. But come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At who's command are you hunting Orcs in our land?" 

"I serve no man," said Aragorn; "but the servants of Sauron I will pursue wherever they go. There are few Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them as we are now out of choice. The ones we pursued have captured two of our friends. In such a time as this, since we have no horses, we must go on foot, and we shall not count the heads of our enemies but with our weapons. I am not weaponless." 

Aragorn tossed aside his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered in the light as he grasped it and the blade of Andúril shone like a flame as he pulled it out. "Elendil!" he cried. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn. I am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the heir of Isildur of Gondor. Here is the blade that was Broken and now is re-forged! Will you aid me or stop me? Choose swiftly, for I have no time to tarry!" 

Legolas and Gimli watched Aragorn in amazement, for they had never seen him in this mood before. It seemed to them that their friend had grown while Éomer had shrunk in size; and watching his face they saw a short vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. To Legolas it even appeared that a white flame-like crown flickered upon Aragorn's brow. Éomer stepped back, a look of awe on his face. He lowered his proud eyes. 

"These are strange days," he muttered. "Legends and dreams coming to life out of the very grass. Tell me, lord," he said louder, "what brings you here? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone in search of an answer, and the horse we lent him came back with no rider. What doom do you bring to us from the North?" 

"The doom of choice," said Aragorn. "You may tell Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live as they have lived, and few shall keep what is theirs. But of these matters we shall speak later. If chance comes I myself will see the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for your help, or at least tidings. I have spoken of an orc-host that has carried off our friends. What can you tell us?" 

"That you need not hunt them any more," said Éomer. "The Orcs are destroyed." 

"And our friends?" said Legolas. 

"We found none but Orcs." 

"But that should not be," said Aragorn. "Did you search among the dead? Were there no other bodies but those of the Orcs? Our friends would be mere children to your eyes, and they were clad in grey and unshod." 

"There were no dwarves or children," said Éomer. "We counted all the dead and then burned them. The ashes are smoking still." 

"Someone approaches!" cried one of the Riders in the back ranks. "Shall we make ready to attack?" 

"Nay!" said Éomer. "Hold your fire until we can be sure of the person's identity!" 

There was near silence until Legolas could perceive the sounds of footfalls upon the grass. They were light and swift, and he knew at once it must be. 

"Oh, let me pass, confound you Riders!" cried Makoto. "I am not your foe, nor have I ever been! I wish but to speak to Aragorn, and that I cannot do from back here." 

"Let her pass, as she requests," said Éomer. "It is but the Elfling." 

Makoto gave a delicate snort as she walked swiftly through the path of horses that the Riders had made on Éomer's orders. Legolas' ears picked up the sounds of her muttering softly in Sindarin, and his heart warmed slightly. She walked with her head held high and the breeze caught her hair and cloak, tossing them behind her. Her elven-knife glittered at her side. Many of the Riders looked at her with respect, for they had dealt with her many times and she had proven her will and heart true. 

"Aragorn," said Makoto when she approached. Aragorn nodded to show he heard her; but his eyes filled with concern. Up close she looked weary and rather like she was fighting to stay upright, and more human than Elf. "Upon your request I have searched for your friends." 

"Then they are dead, as the Riders say?" 

"Dín i lam chín, Aragorn. Allow me to finish before jumping to outrageous claims! They are alive. Less than an hour ago they entered the forest of Fangorn. They will be safe there, no matter what you may have heard. Ti im beriathan." 

"So there were children that we did not see?" Éomer murmured. 

"We speak not of dwarves or children," said Gimli. "Our friends are hobbits." 

"Hobbits?" said Éomer. "And what are they? It is a strange name." 

"A strange name for strange folk," answered Gimli: "but these were very dear to us. Apparently you in Rohan have heard of those words which troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of Halflings, and these hobbits are the Halflings." 

"Halflings!" laughed the Rider who stood next to Éomer. "Halflings indeed! They are only little people in old songs and tales out of the North. Do we walk upon earth or in legends?" 

"A man may do both," interrupted Aragorn, and Makoto scowled at him lightly. She had been ready to show that Rider the sharper side of her human tongue. "For those who come after us shall make legends of our time. And the green earth, you say? In itself it is made of the matter of legends, though you walk upon it." 

"We must hurry south, lord," said the Rider, ignoring Aragorn. "Let us leave these wildfolk and the Elfling to their own fancies. Or let us bind them and we shall bring them before the king." 

"You would do well to pay heed to this man," warned Legolas. "For he is not one who should be taken lightly. Do not beguile yourself to think that he is but an ordinary stranger. There are those, if he will not, who will take actions against such thoughts to prevent them." 

"Legolas! Dínenno!" said Aragorn sharply. 

"When did the Riders of Rohan become so infatuated with themselves, I do wonder," muttered Makoto. "They were not so cruel to those they did not know when last I met them, nor did they speak rudely to those they did." 

"Times change and so must we change with them, Elfling," said the Rider haughtily. "Ignorant though you are of the world, you surely must know at least that." 

"Peace, Éothain!" said Éomer, sharply, in his own speech. "Do not insult the Elfling; for she is of Fangorn and carries with her the forest's wrath! Leave me now for a while. Tell the éored to assemble and make ready on the path for Entwade." 

Muttering darkly Éothain moved into the ranks of the Riders and spoke with them. Soon Éomer was left alone with the four companions. Makoto smirked at the back of Éothain, then turned to Aragorn and gave him a slight bow. 

"I shall leave you here, and see that your companions come to no harm in the Forest," she said. 

"We are grateful for all you have done," answered Aragorn. 

Makoto nodded and swiftly set her path to the Forest. The three companions and Éomer watched her run. There was a short period of silence before anyone spoke. 

"All you have said is strange, Aragorn," said Éomer. "Yet you speak the truth, that is plain. The Men of the Mark do not lie, and so we are not easily deceived. But I sense you have not told me all there is to tell. Now that we are alone, will you speak more of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?" 

"I will," answered Aragorn. "But first you must be warned that it is a long tale." 

"That I have already assumed," said Éomer. "But speak, and I will listen." 

**Owari, chapter three**

Sheesh, that took a long time to get out. Sorry for making all my fans wait, but I was busy with school and all that wonderful stuff. This chapter is also shorter than the others (only five pages --;;), and I'm sorry if you find it lacking, but like I said, chapters four through most likely six will be very different from the books. 

> **Other Notes:** Now, as close as I can figure from the most reliable sources: 
> 
> Dínenno! 
> 
> Dínen (silent) no (be; imperative form of na-, 'to be') 
> 
> Be silent! 
> 
> Dín i lam chín, Aragorn. 
> 
> Dín (silence) i lam ([lit] of the tongue) chín (your) 
> 
> Be silent, Aragorn. 
> 
> Ti im beriathan 
> 
> Ti (them) im (I) beria- (protect) than (I will) 
> 
> I will protect them


	4. Elves and Ents

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a  
Type: AU; X-over; action/adventure; fantasy  
Rating: PG

**Note:** Oh my lord, I've made it to the fourth chapter! Aren't you all so proud of me now? … I thought not. Oh well. Happy reading! This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something.

**Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even in this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

Elves and Ents

Merry and Pippin climbed and scrambled up the rock-hill they had found. If the stair like indents had been made, it was for feet far larger and legs far longer than theirs. They were far too eager to be surprised at the way their wounds from being captives of the Orcs had been healed and their vigor returned. They finally came to the edge of the shelf almost at the feet of an old tree; then they sprang up and turned around with their backs to the hill, breathing deeply and looking to the east.

"No animals here, nor hobbits," said Pippin. "And I don't like the thought of trying to get through here, either. Nothing to eat for a hundred miles, I guess. How are our supplies?"

"Low," said Merry. "We ran off with nothing but a couple of spare packets of lembas, and left everything else behind." They looked at the remains of the elven-cakes. "And not a wrap or blanket. We shall be cold tonight, whichever way we go."

They saw that they had only come some three miles into the forest: the tops of the trees marched down the slopes to the plain. Near the fringe of the forest tall spires of black smoke went up, wavering and floating towards them.

"The wind's changing," said Merry. "It's turned east again. It feels cool up here."

"Yes," said Pippin; "I'm afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it will go all grey again. What a pity! I almost felt I liked the place."

"Almost felt you liked the Forest! That's good! That's uncommonly kind of you," said a lyrical but strange voice, the same one who had spoken of spring-cleaning. "Turn around and let me have a look at your faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. Turn round!"

A gentle but firm hand was laid on each of their shoulders, and they were twisted around. They found themselves facing a young-looking man, with auburn hair that tumbled out of a light green hood. His body was shielded from view with the rest of the light green cloak, as was his face, but brilliantly green eyes peered out at them and shone with laughter and kindness.

"Very odd indeed," Makoto murmured, playing the role that Treebeard would have otherwise. "Do not be hasty, that is the motto of the Ents, and so will it be mine for now. But if I had seen you before I heard your voices, I should have just attacked you. I like your voices, however – nice little voices. They remind me of something ... I cannot recall what. Yes, if I had seen you before I heard you I might have just trodden on you and found out my mistake later."

Inwardly, Makoto laughed. She knew in her heart that she would never have been able to raise a hand in menace to these childlike hobbits, but this was necessary for making sure of the truth. Pippin, though amazed that someone did indeed live in the woods, felt afraid no longer. Rather, he felt quite at ease, though a curious suspense lingered.

"Please," he said, leaving Makoto with a pleasant surprise. Not many were polite to the inhabitants of Fangorn – Ent, Elf, or otherwise. "Please, who are you? And what are Ents?"

A kind of wariness settled in the eyes of their new acquaintance, and he stepped back from them, drawing the cloak more tightly around his body.

"Ents are the inhabitants of this forest, other than myself. They are - well, you shall see them for yourself when I bring you to Treebeard. As for myself, you may call me Lintëmi Súrë, or just Súrë if you like."

"But, an Ent?" said Merry. "What's that? What do they do? And what is your real name?"

"O-ho!" replied Súrë. "Now that would be telling! Not so hasty, and I am doing the asking. You are in my home after all. What are you I wonder? I cannot place you. You are not in the old lists that I learned, but they may have made new ones since. Let me see! Ah yes:

_Eldest of all: the elf-children; Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses;  
Ent the earthborn, old as mountains; Man the mortal, master of horses;_

It continues on like that for quite some time. But anyway, you do not seem to fit in anywhere."

"Yes, we always seem to have got left out of the old lists and stories," said Merry. "Yet we have been around for quite a long time. We're hobbits."

To Makoto he seemed slightly bitter about being left out of the old lists, and the more outspoken and brazen of the two. However, she knew now that they were the hobbits she had been looking for, and was more than willing to let his brazenness pass by; Orcs were not the most hospitable of races. Pippin, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by his people being left out and stepped forward slightly.

"Why not make a new line?" he said. "'Half-grown hobbits, the hole-dwellers.' Put us in amongst the four, next to Men, and you've got it."

Súrë smiled down at them. "Hm! Not bad, not bad. Treebeard will approve, I think," he said. "So you live in holes, eh? That sounds very proper. But who calls you hobbits? That does not sound very elvish to me. Elves made all the old words: we began it."

"Nobody calls us hobbits, Master Elf, we call ourselves that," said Pippin.

Irritated at herself for giving away her race, Makoto pushed on, keeping up the charade she had set up for herself. "Ho, come now! You call yourselves hobbits? But you should not go around telling just anybody. There are those who are trustworthy and then there are those who would feign their trustworthiness, you know. You'll be giving out your own names if you're not careful."

"But we aren't careful about that," said Merry. And he was right. "As a matter of fact, I'm a Brandybuck. Meriadoc Brandybuck, though most people just call me Merry."

"And I'm a Took. Peregrin Took, but I'm generally called Pippin or even Pip."

"Hm, but you are hasty folk," said Súrë. "I am honored by your confidence. I'll call you Merry and Pippin for now, if you please - nice names. As for my name and who I am, know that I have been looking for you for quite some time. Your friends, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, are on the march looking for you."

Merry and Pippin gaped at her in wonder.

"You mean ... you mean they are coming after us?" said Pippin. "But you said nothing of Boromir. What happened to him?"

"Of course they are coming for you," answered Makoto. "And they have asked me to help in the search for you. As for Boromir ... he ... he has passed on to the Halls of Mandos. He would not let me do anything for him."

There was silence for a short time as Merry and Pippin mourned quietly but quickly for their companion. Makoto soon found, however, that Pippin was as curious as he was hasty, and that the hobbits were very childlike in their emotions.

"Please, sir. If you are an Elf, why are you here in Fangorn and not in Rivendell or Lórien?" he said.

"Not all who are Elf-kind live in Imladris or Lórien, but that is a tale for later, little one. I will tell you this now: I am not a 'sir'," replied Súrë, and let his hood fall back and cloak loosen, proving himself not a male, but female.

The two hobbits both looked and were rather embarrassed, but Súrë's eyes shone with humor and they began to feel at ease once again.

"Come now, Masters Merry and Pippin. I will take you to Treebeard, he can explain this forest far better than I. Oh, and the Ents are rather fond of news, for they do not get it often, and I daresay you will be asked to explain everything from the beginning," Súrë said with a slight grin. "Well, this way."

"Where shall we go?" asked Merry.

"To his home ... or one of his homes," answered Súrë.

"Is it far?"

"I suppose you might think it far. I do not know. But what does that matter?"

"Well, you see, we have lost all our belongings," said Merry. "We have only a little food."

"Oh!" Súrë smiled reassuringly at them. "You need not trouble about that! Treebeard has a drink that he may give you, should he like you, that will keep you green and growing for a long time. I myself do need solid food, and I have some that I will share when we arrive. And if we decide to part company, I can bring you to any point in the forest from which you can leave."

Súrë led them down the stairs at an un-rushed pace, halting every now and again to allow them to catch up to her. Once they reached the bottom she led them deeper and deeper into the forest, never too far from the river. They climbed steadily up the slopes and to the hobbits it seemed that the trees were asleep, though some of them moved to clear the path for Súrë. The hobbits were silent for a time, listening to the sounds of the forest. They felt oddly safe and comfortable in the presence of Súrë, and they had quite a bit to think about. Only after an hours walk or so did Pippin venture to speak again.

"Please, Súrë," he said, "could I ask you something? Why did Celeborn warn us against your forest? He told us not to get entangled in it."

Súrë sent them a backward glance over her shoulder, and a matching mischievous smile to go along with the look in her eyes.

"Hmm, did he know? Well, for starting, it is not my forest – I am but a guest here. And I do suppose Treebeard might have said the same thing, should you have been going the other way. 'Do not risk the woods of Laurelindórinan!' That is what we used to call it, though now I have heard the name shorter: Lothlórien. And perhaps ... perhaps it is right: maybe it is fading, and not growing. Land of the Valley of Singing Gold, that was the name when I was younger. Now it is just the Dreamflower. Ah well, but I suppose Treebeard would tell you that it is a queer place, and not for just anyone to venture in. Though I am not, he would be surprised that you ever got out, and yet moreso that you ever got in, and he will tell you this himself when you meet him."

Here Súrë paused to breath and gather her thoughts and the hobbits were left quite without the answer to Pippin's question at all. She stopped in a pleasant enough clearing and motioned for the two to sit, something they did gratefully, though they kept their eyes on her. She looked about and chose a branch that looked sturdy enough to support her and leapt up to the forest roof.

"Yes, Lothlórien is a queer land," she said when she came back down. "And so is this. But neither land is _evil_ for it. Many have come to grief here, so far as I have seen and have heard, from the anger of the trees. Many have come to grief in Lórien, as well, from the power of the Lady Galadriel and the Galadhrim. As for the rest, you shall have to ask Treebeard. He may not understand it fully, but he can tell you a great deal more than I."

The hobbits nodded when Súrë finished, each hoping they understood what she was saying. After a brief rest she stood and the two reluctantly but obediently followed. Only as the Sun set and dusk settled about the forest did the hobbits realize that rising dimly before them was a steep dark land. They had finally come to the feet of the mountains, and to the roots of Methedras. On they went, down the hillside where the Entwash leapt to meet them from high springs above them. A long slope to the right of the river, grey in the twilight, opened into clear sky, for no trees grew there.

Hardly slowing her pace, Súrë moved farther on, heading up the slope. Merry and Pippin thought to ask for a pause, but the way she moved would rest for none. They soon found they needed not wonder about their destination, for a wide opening was before them, and Súrë moved towards it with determination. Two trees stood there, looking like large gateposts with no gate between them. They quivered and moved their branches lower as if to inspect Súrë, and their leaves rustled. Here their guide spoke to the trees, then paused and turned to the hobbits.

"You should take some rest here while I speak with Treebeard. He is not a hasty Ent, nor would he approve of hasty guests," said Súrë, and spared them a rueful grin. "I myself am often found at the receiving end of his lectures."

Nodding to show their understanding, and smiling as they had not smiled since their capture, Merry and Pippin sat themselves in the protection of the gatepost-trees as Súrë instructed. She ran a critical eye over the horizon, as if searching for someone or something, then nodded to herself and stepped into the broad, level floor of Treebeard's home. The walls were of the slope itself, the hobbits noted, and the floor seemed as if it had been cut from the side of the hill. The walls themselves reached fifty feet high, and taller, and along each wall ran an isle of trees that increased in height as the walls did. They watched Súrë disappear into the wide depths and waited nearly thirty minutes before they saw her again.

"Treebeard has asked that I bring you to him," Súrë said. "He is rather anxious to meet you – as anxious as I have ever seen him, at any rate. Follow me, please."

Legolas and Gimli stood by watching Éomer warily, as Aragorn began his tale.

"I set out from Imladris, many weeks ago," Aragorn was saying. "With me went Boromir of the city of Gondor ... "

The Elf allowed himself to tune out the sounds of his friend speaking so as to give himself silence in which to think. Having had seen Makoto again, after they had all but given up hope, Legolas was becoming acutely aware of the need to interact with his own kind. True though it was that Gimli and Aragorn were indeed good friends of his, they were not of his people, they did not understand his views, nor think the way he did. To simply speak Sindarin tongue again to one other than Aragorn alone, as opposed to singing to himself in it, would be a welcome thing. There was a thought: Was Makoto of the Grey Elves ? Clearly she knew Sindarin, but perhaps she was of the Calaquendi and a native speaker of Quenya? She herself said that it had been many years since she had stayed in any of the Elven lands, but was that by choice? Her father was Erufailo, a name that had not been said in many years, though Legolas had never truly bothered to ask why. It had always seemed unimportant. Now his own curiosity was piqued and, loathe though he was to admit it to himself, he missed her presence, for Makoto very nearly reminded him of the hobbits that they were trying to retrieve.

" ... Gandalf the Grey was our leader," said Aragorn.

Inwardly Legolas winced. The name of the wizard brought sadness and memories of pain back to him, memories that he would rather forget. He was an Elf; he was not supposed to know of death. And yet, he had already lost two companions to it. He wondered if perhaps Makoto knew death, too, being but half-Elf. Had she been given the choice of Elrond Peredhil, as Elrond's own children had? What path had she chosen?

"Gandalf!" Éomer exclaimed. "Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark; but his name, I warn you now, is no longer a password to the king's favor. He has been a guest in our land many times, coming and going as he pleases, after a season or after many years. He has always brought news of strange events, and some now say he is a bringer of evil. When he came just last summer, all things began to run amiss. Until then we had counted Saruman as our friend, but Gandalf warned us of war preparing in Isengard."

Legolas fought the urge to smirk as he had seen Men do, knowing of the war that was indeed coming, and succeeded. Gimli, however, could not stop the snort that escaped from him. Éomer took no notice of this, and the Elf could only be glad, for he might have taken it to be an insult.

"He said that he had been a prisoner of Orcthanc himself," Éomer continued; "and said that he had just hardly escaped. Théoden would not listen, however, and Gandalf left. Aye, speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in Théoden's ears! For he took with him the great horse Shadowfax, whom only the Lord of the Mark may ride. Seven nights ago Shadowfax returned, but the king's anger is no less. Now the horse is wild and will let no man handle him."

Now Legolas gave into the desire to smirk, turning his head away slightly as if to study the forest of Fangorn, where Merry and Pippin and Makoto were. Thinking of Makoto brought back a pang of hidden memory. He felt he should remember the name Makoto or Naoko, as he did Erufailo, but could not find them in his memory. Grimacing inwardly at his failure, Legolas resolved to ask Makoto more about herself when they were next joined together.

"Then Shadowfax has found his way home alone from the North, for that is where he and Gandalf parted," said Aragorn. "But alas! Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into shadow in the Mines of Moria."

"That is heavy tidings indeed," said Éomer. "At least to me. It will not be so to all, you will find, if you come to see the king."

"It is far more grievous than any in this land can understand," said Aragorn, and to Legolas his words carried a sharper tone than usual. "It will touch them sorely before this year is over. And when the great fall, the lesser must lead. It has been my duty to guide our Company since Moria. We came through Lórien - and you would do well to learn the truth of it before speaking - and then down the Great River to Rauros. There it was that Boromir was slain by the same Orcs you destroyed."

Not even Gimli was dense enough to hear the slight wavering of pain in Aragorn's voice as he spoke of their late companions. They still felt the pangs as well, but Legolas was adept at hiding his emotions, and the Dwarf had not known Gandalf or Boromir well enough to be openly emotional about their deaths.

"Your news is of nothing but woe!" cried Éomer in pure dismay. "His death will bring great harm to Minas Tirith and the rest of us. Boromir was a worthy man! All spoke his praise. He was seldom in the Mark; but I have seen him. More like the sons of Eorl than of the grave men of Gondor did he seem to me. I thought him likely to prove a great captain of his people, when his time came. But we have had no word of this grief from Gondor ... When did he fall?"

"It is now the fourth day since his passing," answered Aragorn, "and since that evening we have traveled here from Tol Brandir."

"On foot?" cried Éomer.

"Yes. As you see us."

A strange kind of wonder came to Éomer's eyes and he shook his head, chuckling to himself in a sort of ironic way. "Strider is too poor a name for you, son of Arathorn," he said. "I name you Wingfoot, and say that this deed of three friends should be sung in many halls. Forty-five leagues you have covered yet before the fourth day is over! Those of the race Elendil are hardy indeed."

"We owe much of it to Makoto," said Legolas quietly. "She has guided us much of the way."

"Indeed the Elfling is a valuable friend to have," Éomer agreed. "She is swift and loyal, but deadly. But what now would you have me do? I must return in haste to Théoden. I spoke before my men warily. It is true that we are not yet openly at war with the Black Land, but there are some, close to the king's ear, that speak devious counsels; but there is war coming. We shall not forsake Gondor, or our alliance with them, and while they fight we shall aid them: so say I and all who are with me. The East-mark is my charge and I have removed all here but swift scouts and guards to beyond the Entwash."

"Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?" asked Gimli.

"We do not nor have we ever," said Éomer with vehemence and a flash in his eyes; "though I have heard that a lie has been told. Some years ago the Lord of the Black Land wished to buy some of our horses at a great price, but we refused him. Then he sent his Orcs to plunder our land and take with them what they could. They still carry off what they can, choosing always the black horses and few of those are left. Our feud with Orcs is bitter, but at this time our most pressing concern is Saruman. He has claimed lordship over all these lands, and there has been war between us for many months."

Here Éomer paused to let the three companions take in his words. At a nod from Aragorn, he continued, and Legolas tuned himself out of their conversation, which had very little to do with him. He set his mind back to Makoto, to her father, hoping to stir his memory. The Elf only came out of his own musings in time to hear Éomer's last few sentences.

" ... If you come to the king's house you shall see for yourself. Won't you come? Or do I hope in vain that you have been sent to me as help in these hard times?"

"I will come as I may," said Aragorn.

"Come now!" cried Éomer. "The Heir of Elendil would be a welcome strength to the Sons of Eorl in this evil time ... "

Once again Legolas tuned himself into his own head, sensing that the Rider was about to go into another long speech that only Aragorn was interested in. Beside him, the Elf vaguely noted that Gimli had rolled his eyes once and was shifting boredly. Once again Legolas allowed himself to smirk visibly, just a slight twitch of his lips upwards. He wondered what Makoto was doing with the hobbits. He wondered why he bothered to wonder what Makoto was doing with the Hobbits. To put things as colloquially as he dared: he was bored. And he came to actual attention just in time for Éomer to finish his long speech.

" ... Yes, and we could use Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my lands, and I would gladly learn better."

"I thank you for your fair words," said Aragorn, "and my heart desires to come with you; now that I know my friends are safe. But I would see them with my own eyes before anything else is done."

"You do not trust the Elfling?" said Éomer.

"I do. She would not give us a false tale. But my step would be lighter for the sight of them, and my purpose stronger."

Éomer was silent for a moment, then he spoke. "We both have need of haste," he said. "My company chafes to be away, and every hour keeps you from your friends. This is my choice. You may go; and more, I will lend you horses. I ask only this: when your quest is achieved, or proven lost as I think it is, return with the horses to Meduseld, the high house where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my life, in keeping of your good faith. Do not fail."

"I will not," said Aragorn, and indeed, his determination seemed stronger than before.


	5. Treebeard

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a  
Type: AU; X-over; action/adventure; fantasy  
Rating: PG

**Note:** ::Peeks around a corner anxiously, looking at the audience:: Uh ... hi. Remember me? The author of the LOTR/SM crossover entitled Lumbulëssë Caita Estel? You know, the story I was supposed to pick up nearly a year ago? ... Well, I'm finally getting back to it! Here's chapter five. Enjoy! This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something. 

**Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even in this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

Treebeard

Merry and Pippin followed after Súrë to the heart of Treebeard's home, and Pippin found to his annoyance that he had a nearly overwhelming desire to hold onto to the Elfling's hand. Instead he focused on his surroundings and forced himself not to think of the dark of the, well, he thought it might be a hallway, but he was not sure. At the far end of the rock-fall Pippin saw it was sheer but on closer inspection he saw that the bottom had been hollowed into a shallow bay with an arched roof; the only real roof in the hall. Though, if he were to be fair, one could call the branches overhead a sort of a roof; at the inner end of the hall they overshadowed the ground and left a large open path between them. A small stream escaped from the main waters above somewhere to trickle down the sheer face of the wall, pouring down in silver colored drops. The effect made the waters fall like a translucent curtain in front of the arched bay. The water gathered into a basin carved in the stone at the bottom between the trees and from there it was poured out to join the Entwash in its journey through the trees.

"Here we are," Súrë said quietly. She raised her voice, "Ho Treebeard!"

Merry and Pippin became aware of a tall, treelike figure standing under the rain from the streams above. One knobby hand raised in greeting creating an opening in the water so they would not get wet from it. The three passed through quickly and Treebeard followed, silently. The hobbits noted that when Treebeard walked his knees hardly bent, but his legs opened in a huge stride.

A great stone table stood in the bay, but there were no chairs. The back of the bay itself was quite dark. Treebeard lifted two huge vessles and stood them on the table which seemed to be filled with water, but when the Ent held his hands over them they began to glow; one a bright gold and the other a rich forest green. The blending of the two lights lit the bay, as if the summer sun was shining through the stone itself. Looking back the hobbits saw that all the leaves of the trees in the court had begun glowing as well in a variety of different colors, some a rich green, some copper coloured, some gold. Even the tree-trunks appeared as if made of some luminous stone, and neither Súrë nor Treebeard seemed surprised by this. Súrë did not seem surprised by the lack of seats either, for she had promptly swung herself onto the table and settled herself there.

"Súrë tells me she has brought you nearly seventy thousand entstrides to come here. What that translates to in your system of measurement I do not know. We are near the roots of the Last Mountain, and part of the name of this place might be Wellinghall in your language. I like it. We will stay here tonight. You must be thirsty and perhaps tired as well. Drink this!"

Treebeard went to the back of the bay and there the hobbits saw several tall stone jars with heavy lids. Súrë moved to the end of the table opposite the side where she had been sitting, and produced some preserved rabbit meat. Expertly setting a tiny fire on one corner, away from Treebeard, she began cooking the meat in a small stone bowl that was filled with water.

"I allow only her to set fire in my hall and only because she has lived here for many years," Treebeard said.

The hobbits nodded and watched the Ent lift the lid off one of the jars and pour a clear liquid from a ladle into four bowls. One was very big and the other three were smaller.

"This is an ent-house," Treebeard said suddenly, "and as such there are no seats I am afraid. You may sit with Súrë, if you like, on the table." Picking the hobbits up he set them on the stone slab, six feet above the ground. Súrë smiled warmly and them, adding something from a pouch on her belt to the stew that she was obviously making. It smelled wonderful to the hobbits; it smelled like something from home. They sat on the edge, dangling their legs, drinking the liquid Treebeard had provided them with in small sips and waiting for Súrë to finish her cooking.

The drink was very much like water, and indeed it tasted very near to the taste of the draughts they had taken from the Entwash, but there was some faint scent or flavor in it that they could not distinguish. Whatever it was, it was faint, and it reminded them of the smell of distant wood borne by a cool breeze at night. The effect of the drink was immediate and began at the toes, flowing steadily through every limb right up to the tips of their hair, bringing refreshment and vitality. Treebeard stood with his feet in the basin beyond the arch and drank his bowl in one long, slow draught, so slow that the hobbits thought he might never stop.

At last he did, just as Súrë finished her own cooking and gave each hobbit a bowl and wooden spoon, setting aside one for herself with the drink. Treebeard set his bowl down on the table again.

"Ah – ah" he sighed. "Hm, hoom, now we can talk easier. When you are finished, you can sit on the floor, and I will lie down. This will prevent the drink from rising to my head and putting me to sleep."

"They may sit on my bed, should they wish, Treebeard. They should not have to suffer the floor," Súrë said, smiling kindly at them over the rim of her stew bowl.

On the right side of the bay there was a large bed that stood on low legs; not more than two or so feet off the ground. It was covered in dried grass and leaves and it was on this that Treebeard lowered himself. With only the slightest bend of his middle, he lay at full length with his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, upon which the lights flickered. Súrë had her own bed very near to his that was pushed against the wall, which she leaned upon as she looked at Treebeard. Merry and Pippin sat on pillows of grass on either side of her and leaned close as if looking for comfort from her.

"Now tell me your tale, and do not hurry!" said Treebeard.

The hobbits began their story of adventures, with no second bidding, since they had left Hobbiton. They followed no particular order for they interrupted one another continually, and Treebeard often stopped the speaker to ask questions about an event that had happened either before or after the event they had been speaking of. They said nothing, however, about the Ring and did not tell their audience where they were going or why. Súrë and Treebeard, whatever their reasons, did not ask them to.

Treebeard was immensely interested in everything the hobbits told him: in the Black Riders, in the Mines of Moria, in Rivendell and Elrond, in Lothlórien and the Lady Galadriel. He made Merry and Pippin describe the Shire over and over again, and at one point asked a very peculiar question.

"You never see any, hm, Ents around there, do you?" he said. "Well, not really Ents, Entwives I should say."

"Entwives?" said Pippin. "Are they like you at all?"

"Yes, hm, well no: I do not know now," said Treebeard thoughtfully. "But they would like your country so I just wondered."

Súrë at that point bent her head and gave a very Man-like sigh. The hobbits glanced at her and then at each other, but neither thought it very appropriate to ask. At that time neither hobbit really noticed that her arms snaked around them as if they were children in need of protection. They wanted the comfort that the Elfling's touch provided them, for neither Pippin or Merry liked recounting their time with the Orcs.

Treebeard was extremely interested in everything that concerned Gandalf in any way; and most interested of all in any of Saruman's doings. The hobbits regretted very much that neither had much knowledge of them; just Sam's vague report of what Gandalf had told the Council. But they were clear that Uglúk and his troop came from Isengard and spoke of Saruman as their master.

"Hm, hoom!" said Treebeard, when at last their story had wandered to the battle between the Riders of Rohan and the Orcs. "Well, well! That is a bundle of news indeed and no mistake! You have not told me all, not by a long way, but I have no doubt that you are doing what Gandalf would have wished you to."

"There is something very big going on, Treebeard, that I can see," Súrë said quietly.

"Yes. And what it is we may find out in good time, or in bad time. By root and twig it is a strange business: up sprout a little folk that are not on the old lists and behold! The Nine forgotten Riders hunt them, and Gandalf sends them on a perilous journey, and the Lady Galadriel harbours them in Caras Galadon."

"And Orcs pursue them down the all leagues of the Wilderlands," the Elfling added. "And I make it my business to see that they are saved from the Orcs and thus save Aragorn son of Arathorn an early death from anxiety."

"Indeed they seem to be caught up in a great storm," agreed Treebeard. "I hope they weather it!"

"And what about yourselves?" asked Merry.

"Hoom, hm, I have not troubled about the Great Wars, though Súrë has," said Treebeard; "they concern mostly Men and Elves after all. That is the business of wizards whom are always worrying about the future. I do not like worrying about the future. I am not altogether on anybody's side, because nobody is altogether on my side, if you can understand me. It seems that nobody cares much for the woods as I care for them these days, not even Elves, with the exception of Súrë. Still, I take more kindly to Elves than to others; it was the Elves that cured us of dumbness long ago and that is a great gift that cannot be forgotten. There are some things, of course, whose side I am altogether not on. I am altogether against these – burárum - these Orcs and their masters.

"I used to be anxious when the shadow lay on Mirkwood, but when it was moved to Mordor I did not worry for a while: Mordor is a long way away from here. It seems to me that the wind is blowing East, and that the withering of all woods is drawing near. There is nothing an old Ent can do but hold back the storm: he must either weather it or crack."

"But Saruman now! Saruman is a neighbor, Treebeard. We cannot overlook him. You must do something, or let me," Súrë said.

"I have often wondered what to do about him lately," the Ent said slowly.

"Who is Saruman?" asked Pippin. "Do you know anything about his history?"

"Saruman is a wizard," answered Treebeard. "More than that I cannot say. I do not know the history of wizards. They appeared with the first Great Ships, but he gave up wandering and minding the affairs of Men and Elves some time ago - you would call it a long time ago, and settled in Angrenost, or Isengard. He was very quiet to begin with, but his fame began to grow and he was chosen to be the head of the White Council. It did not turn out too well, they say, and I wonder now if he was not turning to evil ways even then. He used to give no trouble to his neighbors; I used to talk to him. There was a time when he was always in my woods, but he was very polite in those days and he asked my leave every time (when he met me). I told him much that he would never have found out on his own, but he never repaid me in kind, and his face became more and more like a stone wall.

"I think that I understand what he is up to, now. He is planning to become a Power. He has a mind of metal and wheels and does not care for growing things other than what serves him at the time. And it is now clear that he is a black traitor, he has taken up with those foul things, with the Orcs. Brm, hoom! What is worse: he has done something to them, something dangerous."

"Yes. These new ones were more like wicked Men. They could endure the sun, even if they hate it, and it is a mark of evil things that came out of the Great Darkness that they cannot abide the sun," Súrë agreed gravely.

"I wonder what he has done," said Treebeard. "Are they Men he ruined? Or has he blended the races of Orcs and Men together? That would be a black evil!" He rumbled for a moment, as if he were pronouncing some Entish damnation. Súrë stayed quiet, but watched him with an almost fascinated look. "Some time ago I began to wonder how Orcs dared to pass through my woods so freely," he went on. "Only lately did I guess that Saruman was to blame, and that long ago he had been spying on me and learning my secrets!

"Curse him, root and branch! Many trees are simply cut down and left to rot -Orc-mischief, that, but most are hewn up to feed the fires at of Orcthanc. Yes, curse him! Many of those trees were my friends, who I knew from nut and acorn; many had voices of their own that are lost forever now. I have been idle, and I have let things slip. It must stop!"

Treebeard raised himself from his bed with a jerk, stood up, and thumped his hand on the table. The vessels of light trembled and sent up two jets of flame, and Súrë gasped quietly. There was a flicker like green fire in his eyes, and his beard stood stiff. "I will stop it!" he boomed.

"And you shall come with me!"

There was great wonder, and many doubtful glances among his men, when Éomer gave orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the strangers, but only Éothain dared to speak openly.

"It may be well enough for this lord of Gondor, as he claims to be," he said. "But who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?"

"No one," said Gimli, glaring slightly. "And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged."

Legolas found himself thanking immortality for the years it had given him to school his features into doing exactly as he wished. This ability had often kept him out of trouble as a young lad. Now despite the fact that he wished to laugh at the pointedly accusing tone Gimli's voice had taken on, he was able to keep a straight face and betray nothing of his thoughts.

"But you must ride now, or you will hinder us," said Aragorn, as ever the voice of reason.

"Come, you shall ride behind me, friend Gimli," said Legolas. "Then all will be well, and you need neither borrow nor be troubled by a horse."

A great, dark-grey horse was brought to Aragorn and he mounted it. "His name is Hasufel," said Éomer. "May he bear you well and to better fortune than his late master Garulf."

A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was brought to Legolas. He was called Arod; but Legolas asked them to take off the saddle and reins. "I have no need of them," he said, and leaped lightly up. To their wonder Arod was willing and tame beneath him and moved here or there with only a spoken word: such was the elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted up behind his friend, and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.

"Farewell, and may you find what you seek!" cried Éomer. "Return as speedily as you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!"

"I will come," said Aragorn. He raised a hand.

"And I will come, too," said Gimli. "There is still the matter of the Lady Galadriel between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech."

"We shall see," said Éomer. "So many things have happened that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell!"

With that they parted. The horses of Rohan were very swift. When Gimli looked back after riding some ways off, the company of Éomer was already small and far away. Aragorn however did not look back: he was watching the trail as they sped along, bending low with his head by Hasufel's neck, looking for some sign of their Elfling guide. Before long they came to the borders of the Entwash, coming down from the East. Aragorn dismounted and surveyed the ground, then leaping back into the saddle, he rode away a short distance. He kept to one side and was careful not to ride over the footprints. Then he dismounted again and examined the ground on foot, moving backwards and forwards.

"There is little to discover," he said when he returned. "The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen; their outward course must have lain nearer to the river. But this eastward trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign of any feet going the other way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower, and make sure that no trace or footstep breaks off on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they met either the Riders or Makoto."

As they rode forward the day was overcast. Low grey clouds came over the Wold and a mist shrouded the sun. The tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed ever nearer, slowly darkling as the sun went west. They saw no sign of any trail to the right or left, but here and there they passed single Orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey-feathered arrows sticking in back or throat. Some had no mark at all, and Legolas thought that was Makoto's touch. They rode nearer to her home.

At last they came to the eaves of the forest as the afternoon was waning, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside it was a great pile of helms and mail, bows and darts and other weapons of war. Upon a pole in the middle was set a large goblin head; upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. Further away, not far from the river, there was a mound. It was new: the raw earth was covered with freshly cut turves and about it were fifteen spears.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli searched far and wide about the field of battle, but the light faded and evening soon drew down, dim and misty. By nightfall they had discovered no trace of Merry, Pippin, or Makoto, and that was taking in good faith that she had them safely somewhere.

"We can do no more," said Gimli sadly. "We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. If it were not for the Elfling I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs' ... Elrond was against their coming."

"But Gandalf was not," said Legolas. "And Makoto has given her word that they made it safely into her home, and that they will not come to harm here. We must keep our faith in her."

"But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost," answered Gimli. "His foresight failed him."

"The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others," said Aragorn. "There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. And I agree with Legolas; we must keep our faith in Makoto and with her words."

"I know not how much longer I can place my faith in the words of an Elfling wanderer," replied Gimli, a mite irate now. "Why do you not know of her, Legolas? She seems to have been living near as long as you, she must have been, to know your father."

"Not so, for the name of my father runs well known among other Elves," said Legolas. "She is lost from my memory, but her own father is not."

"No indeed," said Aragorn, quietly. His companions turned to look at him in mild surprise. At their expectant silence he continued: "I too, remember the name of Erufeilo. Elrond has spoken of him many times, sometime kindly, sometimes not." Here Aragorn paused to give a peculiar smile. "I believe Erufeilo was Elrond's brother or other close relation. He, like Elrond, was given the choice of immortality or mortality, and, like Elrond, he chose to live as an Elf. But that changed when suddenly he disappeared to an isle far to the East that no other Elf would go of their own accord, and was discovered to be living with a woman of royalty from there. They were married."

There was a short silence following Aragorn's tale. Legolas once again pondered to himself why it was that he could not remember Makoto. Surely with a father of lineage as his, she would be known to the Elves of Rivendell. But he had not once been mentioned, and she had received similar attention, during all his time in the Last Homely House. Gimli as well pondered, though he wondered why an Elf with apparently noble birth would hide from her own kind in the Fangorn forest.

"In any case we must wait for morning light," said Aragorn, breaking the silence suddenly. "It will do us no good to be weary to the point of exhaustion for our travels. We will continue to look for Makoto's home in the morning."

**OTHER NOTES  
**Okay, so now you have a bit more background of Makoto, whose story has until now remained completely hidden. I may add more to the story as it goes along, but that will depend on how many people care about it. Now, for some warnings to prepare you for coming chapters: about twenty or so pages of the book is going to be skipped. We already know that Makoto has brought the hobbits safely to her home, and Aragorn and the others know this as well. Therefore, and you know what I'm talking about if you've read the book, there is no real need for them to have a long drawn-out search for the hobbits. This also means that the entire chapter of "The Uruk-Hai" will be skipped as well. Sorry if this disappoints anyone, but that's how it's going to happen.


	6. Prelude to Entmoot

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a  
Type: AU; X-over; action/adventure; fantasy  
Rating: PG

**Note:** Hey-lo there! And we're back with another chapter of Lumbulëssë Caita Estel, which means 'In Darkness/Shadows Lies Hope' in Quenya, the language of the High-Elves. I'm sure you've all forgotten that this story even existed, and to those of you who actually liked the damn thing, I'm sorry. I've been experiencing a bit of a writer's block, as well as being over worked by school; I haven't had time to write anything. This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something.

**Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even in this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

Prelude to Entmoot

A little way beyond the battlefield, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli made their camp under a spreading tree. It looked like a chestnut, but it bore the leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long fingers; they rattled in the night breeze mournfully. Gimli shivered. They had brought only one blanket apiece.

"Let us light a fire," he said. "I no longer care about danger. Let the Orcs come like moths to a flame if they will!"

"If those hobbits are astray in the woods, and Makoto has in fact not found them, if might draw them hither," said Legolas.

Though it wasn't an outright agreement, Legolas' vote of confidence in Gimli was gratifying to the dwarf. He nodded a quick thanks, though the Elf was not looking at him, knowing that Legolas' keen vision was not likely to miss it.

"And it might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit," said Aragorn. "We are near to the mountain-marches of Saruman. Also to the very edge of Fangorn, and it is said that it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood. I would not risk it without a guide."

"But the Rohirrim made a great fire here yesterday," said Gimli, "and they cut down many trees for the flames, as can be seen. Yet they passed through the night safely when their labour was done."

"They were many," said Aragorn, "and they do not care for the wrath of Fangorn. They seldom come here and they do not go under the trees, whereas our path may lead us into the very forest. So have a care not to cut any living wood!"

"There is no need," said Gimli. "The Riders have left dead wood lying in plenty for us." He went off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and lighting a fire.

Aragorn sat in silence with his back to the big tree; and Legolas stood alone looking towards the deep shadows of the forest, leaning forward as if listening to voices calling him from far away. When the Dwarf had a small but bright fire blazing, the three companions drew close around it and sat together, their hoods shrouding the light. Legolas looked at the branches of the tree reaching out above them.

"Look!" he said, "the tree is glad for the fire!"

Though it might have been the dancing shadows from the fire, it looked to the three that the boughs of the tree were bending so as to rest above the fire, while those higher branches stooped down. The brown leaves were now stiff, and rubbed together like old hands taking comfort in warmth. There was a silence, for suddenly now the dark and unknown forest made itself felt as having a great brooding presence, full of secrets. After a while Legolas spoke again.

"Makoto said this was her home, yet Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn," he said. "Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the tales of this old forest that Boromir had heard?"

"I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere," said Aragorn, "but had deemed them all stories made by Men as true knowledge faded until the words of Celeborn. I had thought of asking you for the truth. And if an Elf of the Wood does not know, then how shall a Man answer?"

"You have traveled farther than I," said Legolas. "I have heard nothing of this in my own land except songs that tell of how the Onodrim, the Ents, dwelt their long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it."

"Yes, it is old," said Aragorn, "as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far larger. Elrond has told me often that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days. Yet Fangorn still holds a secret of its own; what it is I do not know."

"And I do not wish to know," said Gimli. "Let nothing in Fangorn be troubled on my account!"

They then drew lots for the night watch, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost immediately sleep claimed a hold of them: "Gimli," said Aragorn drowsily. "Remember, it is perilous to cut living wood from the trees of Fangorn. But do not stray too far in search of dead wood; rather, let the fire die. You have but to call me if you need me! And wake me if Makoto should come here."

With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open, as all Elves sleep. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the blade of his axe. He watched Legolas sleep in wonder, for he knew not the sleeping habits of Elves. That they could blend the living night with the deep dreams was a wonder to the Dwarf. The trees rustled as if speaking to one another. There was no other sound for a very long time.

Suddenly Gimli looked up. There stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, just on the edge of the firelight. He was wrapped in a great cloak and his wide-brimmed hat was pulled down to cover his eyes. Gimli sprang to his feet, too amazed to cry out at the moment though in his mind he thought 'Saruman has caught us!' Both Aragorn and Legolas, ostensibly roused by his sudden movement, though Gimli wondered if either had really slept at all, sat up and stared. The old man did not speak.

"Well, father, what can we do for you?" asked Aragorn, leaping up. "Come and sit by the fire and be warm, if you are cold!" He stepped forward, but the old man was gone. There was no trace of him near at hand and they did not dare to wander far in search of him, for the moon had set and the light from the fire was very dark.

Suddenly Legolas gave a cry. "The horses! The horses!"

The horses were gone. They had pulled themselves free of their pickets, or dragged them along, and disappeared. For some time the three companions stood still and silent, troubled by this new misfortune. They stood under the eaves of Fangorn, and an endless number of leagues lay between them and the Men of Rohan, who were their only friends in a dangerous land if they did not find Makoto. As they stood, it seemed to them that could hear, far off in the night, the sound of horses whinnying and neighing. Then all was quiet but for the talking of the trees.

"Well, they are gone," said Aragorn at last. "We cannot find them or catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we will have to do without them. But we started out on our feet, and those we still have."

"Feet!" said Gimli. "But we cannot eat as well as walk on them." He threw some fuel on the fire and slumped beside it.

"Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to even sit on a horse," laughed Legolas. "We'll make you a rider yet!"

"It seems unlikely that you shall have the chance," said Gimli. "If you want to know what I think," he began again after a while, "I think it was Saruman. Remember the words of Éomer: he walks about like an old man hooded and cloaked."

Legolas frowned, trying to remember if Éomer had indeed said anything of the sort. He caught Aragorn's eye and the Ranger nodded, "Those were his words." Almost sheepishly, Legolas realized that it must have been said while he had chosen not to pay attention.

"And he has gone off and taken our horses with him or else scared them away. There is more trouble coming our way, mark _my_ words," said Gimli.

"I mark them," said Aragorn. "But I noted also that this old man had a hat and not a hood. Still, I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are in peril here, by day or by night. Yet for now there is nothing we can do but rest while we can. I will watch for a while, Gimli. I need more time now to think than to sleep."

The night passed slowly from then on. Legolas took watch after Aragorn, and Gimli took watch after Legolas. But nothing happened. The old man did not appear to them again, and the horses did not return.

Realizing that at some point he had managed to crawl into Súrë's lap, Pippin looked up to see if she was very annoyed at him for it. But quickly he saw that she really wasn't paying much attention to him, rather, she was looking at Treebeard with a facial expression that didn't quite suit an Elf. He tried to place that emotion to a name and was startled to realize that it was a look of mischievous excitement, and an expression that he and Merry had often shared in the Shire. He then looked at Merry to see if his friend had noticed; and saw that he had not. But thinking of his home was now rather painful and he forcefully wrenched his attention back to Treebeard.

"Yes, you may be able to help me. And you will be helping your own friends that way, too; for if Saruman is not stopped Rohan and Gondor will have an enemy and in front. We go together – To Isengard!"

"We will come with you," said Merry, "We will do what we can to help."

"Yes!" said Pippin. "I would like to see the White Hand overthrown. I would like to be there even if I could not be of much use: I shall never forget Uglúk and the crossing of Rohan."

If either hobbit had turned to look at Súrë, they might have seen her smile for them, proud though it was small. But neither did for their attention was riveted on Treebeard.

"Good! Good!" said Treebeard, "But I spoke hastily. We must not be hasty. I have become too hot. I must cool myself and think; for it is easier to shout stop! than to actually stop!"

An annoyed sigh followed him as he strode to the archway and stood for a while under the falling rain of the spring. Then he laughed and shook himself, and where the drops of water fell they glinted like red and green sparks. He came back and lay on the bed and was silent.

"You should take some rest," said Súrë, almost startling the hobbits. Up until now she had been very quiet. "It will be a while yet before he speaks again, and you are both weary. I myself am tired, but I will wait for a little longer to see if he will say more."

"I am so tired I could sleep standing if it were asked of me," said Merry. "But I would so like to enjoy a bed. It seems forever since either of us last slept on one."

"Oh, of course. You shall sleep in my bed - I daresay there is room enough for two hobbits! Treebeard sleeps standing you see, as all Ents do. I shall sleep on his bed."

Merry and Pippin moved to allow Súrë to stand and then curled up on the soft grass and fern mattress. It was fresh, and sweet-scented, and warm from their sitting on it. Their Elven cloaks became their blankets once more but this time there were no Orcs, no Uglúk, to torment them. There were only the protective and watchful eyes of Treebeard and Súrë, and listening to the tinkling of the water in the archway, the hobbits fell asleep.

After some time, Makoto heard Treebeard murmuring again. He seemed to be counting on his fingers. "Fangorn, Finglas, Fladrif, aye, aye," he sighed. "The trouble is that there are so few of us left. Only three of the first Ents remain: only myself, Finglas and Fladrif, and all three of us are not much use for this business. Finglas has taken to standing in the meadows all summer and now is too drowsy to walk far even in the winter."

"Aye, and I've not seen Fladrif since he was wounded by Orcs," Makoto agreed, nodding grimly.

"Yes, he went up into the high places and has yet to come down," Treebeard said, "Still, I daresay I could get together a fair company of our younger folks - if I could make them understand the need; if I could rouse them: we are not a nasty folk. What a pity there are so few of us! But there have been no Entings for so long."

"Not since the Entwives were lost."

"Do you suppose that Merry or Pippin might know where the Entwives are? We have never searched far past Rohan or Gondor for them; perhaps we lost them to the Shire - they would like that land. Many gardens, and the hobbits whom they could learn from and teach. Aye, maybe the hobbits know what happened to the Entwives."

"Treebeard - Fangorn," Makoto said gently, "I don't think that Merry or Pippin would know of the Entwives. I think that maybe the songs of the Ents hunt for their Entwives has yet to cross the mountains into the Shire. Remember they didn't know you were an Ent, or what an Ent was until they came here. I don't think they would know of the Entwives."

"But I have not asked them yet - and I think they might rather enjoy the tale. It is a rather strange and sad story, but they are strange as a people. Ah! the loveliness of Fimbrethil, and of Wandlimb the lightfooted in the days of our youth so long ago. But our hearts did not grow the same way, and the Entwives made gardens in which to live, but we Ents went on wandering. Many Men learned the crafts of the Entwives after the Darkness was overthrown, and honoured them greatly; but we were only a legend to them. And yet here we still are, while the gardens of the Entwives are wasted: Men call them the Brown Lands now."

"Fangorn, it has been so many years - "

"The Elves made many songs about the Search of the Ents for the Entwives. And some of the songs passed into the tongues of Men. These hobbits seem to have a deep fondness of singing and for stories, and I daresay they have had contact with more than a few Men by now. Even if the songs have not crossed into the Shire perhaps they heard them on the Road." Treebeard stood. "But now I am going to take a little sleep. Seeing as the hobbits have taken your bed, you can lie on mine. I am going to stand in the rain, Lintëmi Súrë."

Makoto nodded a goodnight. She looked to the Halflings once more, to see for herself that they slept well and were warm. From a chest that sat at the foot of her bed, which they had not noticed, she drew two blankets of an Elvish weave. She removed the Elven-cloaks from their small bodies, and these she folded to make pillows, all the while singing quietly in Sindarin a song that she had once made for her cousin. 1

"O môr henion i dhû: Ely siriar, êl sila. Ai! Aníron Undómiel. Tiro! El eria e môr, I 'lîr en êl luitha 'uren. Ai! Aníron ... " 2

After covering Merry and Pippin with the blankets, she withdrew one for herself and, using her own cloak as a pillow, she lay down on Treebeard's bed. She could see the old Ent standing motionless in the archway with his arms raised above his head. Bright stars shone down from the sky and lit the falling water as it spilled onto his fingers and head and dripped to his feet in hundreds of silver drops. At last, Makoto slept the deep and dreamless sleep of a weary Mortal.

She awoke to the cold and darkness of pre-dawn in Fangorn Forest. Instantly alert and awake, Makoto's first thoughts were for the halflings, who still slept soundly in her bed. She removed her blanket and stood, stretching her arms in a very Mannish way. Then she quietly slipped it back into her chest and removed a bar of soap she had made herself. Treebeard was not in Wellinghall, which told her he had gone to tend to his trees and gather up the Ents, and she took the opportunity to indulge in a shower. Treebeard would return before the Sun rose, if not slightly later, Makoto knew, and so she dressed in new raiment, more fitting of a Ranger, and set out. She had been born with some gift of foresight and much desired to speak with Mithrandir before he left the Forest.

Merry and Pippin woke to a cool sun shining into the great court and onto the floor of the bay. Shreds of cloud passed overhead, running on a stiff easterly wind. With surprise they surveyed the blankets that covered them, and noted for the first time the chest, upon which Makoto had left out for them her bar of soap. Treebeard was not to be seen; but while the hobbits bathed in the basin by the arch they could hear him humming and singing as he came up the path between the trees.

"Hoo, ho! Good morning, Merry and Pippin!" he boomed, when he saw them. "You have slept late. I have been out many a hundred strides already. But now we will have a drink and go to Entmoot. If you desire, Súrë has dried some, hoom, what were they called? Rabbits, yes, Makoto has dried some rabbit meat. You may help yourself as you like."

He poured for them two full bowls from a stone jar; but from a different jar. The taste was not the same as the night before: it was earthier and richer, more sustaining and food-like, so to speak. Still Merry and Pippin did take a few of the strips of rabbit meat to have with it. While the hobbits drank, sitting on the edge of the bed, and nibbling small bites of the meat (more because they felt that eating was a necessary part of breakfast than because of hunger), Treebeard stood, humming in Entish or Elvish or some strange tongue that they did not know, and looking up at the sky.

"Where is Entmoot?" Pippin ventured to ask.

"Hoo, eh? Entmoot?" said Treebeard, turning round. "Entmoot is not a place, it is a gathering of Ents – which does not happen often nowadays. Still, I have managed to make a good number promise to come. We shall meet in the place where we have always met: Derndingle Men call it. It is away South from here, and we must be there before noon."

"And where has Súrë gone?" Merry asked, noticing for the first time the missing presence of the Elfling.

"Who can know but she?" Treebeard replied. "She will meet us at Entmoot, no matter where she has gone, the Ents are very fond of her. She is perhaps the last person, Elf-kind or Mortal, who cares for the Forest anymore. But she is hasty and may have gone to look for me when I did not return before light."

The hobbits accepted that as an answer and contented themselves with drinking. Before long, however, they left. Treebeard now carried the hobbits in his arms; though they could keep pace with Súrë, she was not an Ent and did not walk in the huge ent-strides as they did. At the entrance to the court he turned right, stepped over the stream and walked away southwards along the feet of great tumbled slopes where the trees were scanty. Above these the hobbits saw thickets of birch and rowan, and beyond them they saw dark and climbing pines. Soon Treebeard turned a little away from the hills and plunged into deep grooves, where the trees were larger, taller and thicker than any that either Merry or Pippin had ever seen before. For a while they felt faintly stifled, as they had when they had first entered into Fangorn, but it soon passed. Treebeard did not talk to them, instead humming to himself thoughtfully, but Merry and Pippin caught no actual words: it sounded like boom, boom, rumboom, boorar, boom boom, dahrar boom boom, dahrar boom, and so on. They heard a constant change of note and rhythm, but that was all. Now and then they thought they heard an answer, a hum of sound, that seemed to come out of the earth, or from the branches above their heads, or even from the very trees; but Treebeard did not stop or look to either side.

They had been going for a long while – Pippin had tried to keep track of all the 'ent-strides' but had lost count somewhere around three thousand – when Treebeard began to slow his pace. Suddenly he stopped, put the hobbits down, and raised his curled hands to his mouth; then he blew or called through them. A great hoom, hom rang out like a horn in the woods, and seemed to echo from the trees. Far off came a similar hoom, hom, hoom from several directions in answer. Treebeard now perched Marry and Pippin on his shoulders and walked on again, every now and then sending out another horn-call, and each time the answers came louder and nearer. They came at last to what looked like a wall of evergreens, trees of a kind that the hobbits had never seen before.

Turning to the left and skirting the huge hedge Treebeard came in a few strides to a narrow entrance. Through it a worn path passed and went suddenly down a long slope. The hobbits saw that they were descending into a great dingle, very wide and deep, crowned with the dark evergreen hedge. It was smooth and grassy inside, and there were no trees except three very tall and beautiful silver-birches that stood at the bottom. Two other paths led down into the dingle: from the west and from the east. Several Ents had already arrived. More were coming in down the other paths, and some were now following Treebeard. As they drew near the hobbits gazed at them. They had expected to see a number of creatures exactly like Treebeard as one hobbit was to another (at least to a stranger's eye); and they were very surprised to see nothing of the sort. The Ents were as different from one another as different trees were. There were a few older Ents (though none looked as ancient as Treebeard), and more tall strong Ents; but no young Ents, no saplings. Altogether there were about two dozen standing on the wide grassy floor and at least the as many were still marching in.

"Hello, Treebeard. Good afternoon, Masters Merry and Pippin," cried a joyful voice.

Merry and Pippin looked down and waved happily at Súrë, each echoing her greeting. She seemed more like an Elf today, joyful and beautiful as they remember the Elves of Rivendell to be. They watched her greet some of the other Ents, but soon turned their attention to the Ents. When all the Ents gathered around Treebeard, bowing their heads slightly and murmuring in their slow musical voices, the hobbits realized that though the Ents were very different, they were all of the same kindred. They all had the same eyes: not all so old and or deep as Treebeard's, but all with the same green flicker and slow, steady and thoughtful expression. As soon as the whole company was assembled and standing in a wide circle around Treebeard and Súrë, a curious and unintelligible conversation began. Though he could not tell one apart from the other, or understand any of the words - he assumed the language was Entish- Pippin found the sound very pleasant to listen to as first; but he attention began to waver. After a long time he found himself wondering, since Entish was such an 'unhasty' language, whether they had gotten past 'good morning' or not. He then began to wonder that, if Treebeard was to call role, how many days would it take to sing all their names.

"I wonder what the Entish is for 'yes' or 'no'," he thought. He yawned.

Treebeard immediately became aware of him. "Hm, ha, hey, my Pippin!" he said. The other Ents stopped chanting. A soft laughing below caused Pippin to blush brightly. "You are a hasty folk, I was forgetting; and anyway it is wearisome to listen to a speech one doesn't understand. You may get down now. I have told your names to the Entmoot, and they have seen you, and they agree that you are not little Orcs, as they thought when you entered the Forest. A new line shall be added to the old lists. We have not got further yet, but that is quick work for Entmoot. You and Merry can stroll about the dingle with Súrë if you like. There is a well of good water that she can take you to if you need refreshing. There are still some things to say before the Moot really begins, but I will come and see you and tell you how things are going."

He put the hobbits down near Súrë. Before leaving with her, they bowed low. This seemed to amuse the Ents, judging by the tone of their murmurs and the flickering of their eyes; but they soon turned back to their own business.

"Where shall I take you, little Masters?" Súrë asked.

"Is there any chance to see Rohan, or Isengard? They are nearby, are they not?" asked Merry.

"Yes indeed," replied Súrë. "You are well learned in the layout of the land for one who did not know what Ents were. But perhaps they truly have become naught but legend among Men and even perhaps among Elves."

She led them up the west path and they looked through the opening in the hedge. Long tree-clad slopes rose from the lip of the dingle, and away beyond them, above the fir-trees of the furthest ridge there rose a high mountain peak. Southwards they could see the forest falling away into the distance. Súrë pointed in that direction to the pale green glimmer.

"Those there are the plains of Rohan. I will not take you all the way there now, for I think you shall be crossing them quickly enough."

"That peak is Methedras?" asked Merry.

"Yes, and the ring of Isengard lies in a deep cleft at the end of the mountains. Look there, you can see the smoke rising from near it. There is always smoke coming from Isengard these days."

"What is Isengard like?" said Pippin.

"It is not a place I would deliberately travel to anymore, though once Saruman was a quiet neighbor, and a decent one," said Súrë. "I have not been there in many months but I fear for the gardens that used to flourish. Smoke means fire, and fire cannot be sustained without fuel."

"I wonder what the Ents can do about it anyway," the young hobbit said.

"Isengard is like a ring of rocks. There is a flat space inside that ring, and in the center rises a pillar called Orcthanc. That is the tower of Saruman. There is more than one gate in the wall, but one allows a stream to run through; which comes out of the mountains, and flows on across the Gap of Rohan. It is not the sort of place one would expect the Ents to tackle, but Treebeard means to try and rouse them."

"But they don't like being roused," said Merry. "Treebeard himself got roused last night, and he bottled it up again."

"True," said Súrë. She spoke no more, but turned back to the dingle.

The hobbits followed her. The voices of the Ents were still rising and falling in the conclave. The sun had risen high enough to shine over the top of the hedge: it gleamed on the tops of the birches and lit the north side of the dingle. As promised, there they saw a little glittering fountain. The three walked along the rim of the great bowl under the evergreens, then went down to the gushing water. The hobbits drank a little, and sat down on a mossy stone, watching the patches of sun on the grass and the shadows of clouds as they passed on the floor. It seemed a very strange and remote place, outside their world, and far away from anything that had ever happened to them. A sudden great longing came over them to see the faces of their friends, especially for Frodo and Sam, and for Strider. Not even Súrë could ease the pain of that separation.

**OTHER NOTES**

1 Elrond had a brother, according to Tolkien. They were both half-Elf and so were given a choice: to live as an immortal, or live as a mortal. Elrond chose to live as an Elf, his brother chose to be mortal. (In this way, incidentally, Aragorn and Arwen are related, though they are many, many times removed for Aragorn's part.) Makoto's father, for all intents and purposes, was Elrond's second brother (and is completely my creation) and was given the same choice, as explained by Aragorn in a previous chapter. So this means that she and Arwen are cousins (and she is also related to Aragorn, but I promise that will **not** affect her story).

2 I'm sure you all recognized the song from the movie, but incase you didn't; Makoto's 'lullaby' is none other than "Aníron (Theme For Aragorn And Arwen)", which can be heard on the OMS - track 10 'The Council Of Elrond'. It was composed and performed by Enya, the lyrics are by Roma Ryan, and it was stolen shamelessly by me for use in this chapter. I didn't put the translation but if anyone wants it, just e-mail me and I'll send it along. By the way, since all my writing is based on the books, it's also based on how Tolkien himself wrote. If you are having problems understanding any part of this, please let me know so I can make it easier for you.


	7. The Ents Choose War

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a  
Type: AU; X-over; action/adventure; fantasy  
Rating: PG

**Note:** And here comes installment seven of dear old Lumbulëssë Caita Estel. I have decided to use this chapter, and the following two, to explain Makoto's back story up until her entry into Fangorn. I don't think I explained the whole family connection fully, so I'm going to try and clear that up. I also may toss in a bit of romance later on, but it is yet undecided. Also: there will be no Gimli, Legolas, or Aragorn in this chapter except in mention because I want to focus on the hobbits and Makoto/Súrë. A longer explanation as to why I've been dead for – I don't want to think how long – to follow. This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something.

**Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even in this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

The Ents Choose War

At last, as Súrë finished teaching the hobbits a few Elvish greeting and parting phrases, there came a pause in the Ent-voices; and looking up Merry, Pippin, and Súrë saw Treebeard coming towards them, with another Ent at his side. Súrë smiled jovially and raised a hand in greeting. 

"Hm, hoom, here I am again," said Treebeard. "Are you getting weary, or feeling impatient, hmm, eh?"

"No, sir," said Pippin. "Súrë is very entertaining company."

"Well that is good. I am afraid you must not get impatient yet. We have finished the first stage now; but I still have to explain things again to those who live far away from Isengard, and to those I could not get to before the Moot, and then we shall have to decide what to do. Deciding what to do does not take as long as going over the facts and events that we have to make up our minds about. Still, it is no use denying that we will be here for a long time yet: a couple days perhaps."

Merry and Pippin looked at Súrë in disbelief, but she nodded sagely; though not without a hint of a smile on her face. Merry decided that he liked her because of this quirk. Treebeard continued undaunted.

"I have brought you another companion. He has an ent-house nearby. His Elvish name is Bregalad. He says he has made up his mind and does not need to stay at the Moot. Hm, hm, he is the closest among us to a hasty Ent. He and Súrë get on well together, and I see no reason why you should not get on well too. Good-bye!" Treebeard turned and left them.

Bregalad allowed Súrë to climb up his long limbs and perch on his shoulder, and stood for some time surveying the hobbits solemnly; and they looked at him, wondering when he would show a sign of 'hastiness'. He was tall, and likely one of the younger Ents; he had smooth skin on his arms and legs; his lips were ruddy and his hair was grey-green. Though she might have said something, Súrë sat on his wide shoulders and the inspection to continue silently. At last he spoke, and his voice was higher and clearer than Treebeard's.

"Hm, ha, my friends, let us go for a walk!" he said. "My name is indeed Bregalad, that is Quickbeam in your language. But it is only a nickname of course. They have called me that ever since I said yes to an elder Ent before he finished his question. Also, I drink quickly, and go out when some are still wetting their beards. It was a glad event indeed when I was able to bestow the name Lintëmi Súrë upon our Elfling. But, come with me!"

He reached down two long arms and gave a long-fingered hand to each of the hobbits. All that day they walked with him about the woods, singing and laughing; for Quickbeam was quick to laughter. He laughed if the sun came out from behind a cloud, he laughed if they came upon a stream or spring: then he stooped and splashed his feet and head with water. He laughed sometimes at a sound or whisper coming from the trees. Sometimes Súrë laughed with him, as if a very funny joke had been told and only the hobbits could not understand it. Whenever they came upon a rowan tree he stopped and with his arms stretched out, he would sing and sway. At one of the many streams they came across, when Súrë had gone off some ways into the woods and Bregalad had stooped to splash his head, Merry finally asked, "Bregalad, how is it that you named Súrë?"

"Hm, hm, I found her. On the border of Rohan, near the mouths of the Entwash: Likely some two-hundred and sixty years ago by Elvish reckoning. I traveled far in those days, before the Orcs began cutting away at the Forest. There were some trees there, I know not if they still exist for I have not traveled there for many years, who whispered to me, asking for my help. I followed the whispers right to the very mouth where the Mering Stream joined it and there I saw a huddled form in the grass. It shivered from cold, for it was winter, but did not shrink away from me as I approached. The trees told me that the form had been talking to them." Bregalad bent once again to splash his head in the water.

"But why didn't Súrë give you her name?" asked Pippin. "She had one then, didn't she?"

"As surely as you and I do. But when I brought her into my ent-house she was sleeping. The following morning I did not think to ask – I named her for her actions. With her she had a cloak, a traveling sack, and a box, you see, and when she awoke she drew them close to her body and moved as far from me as she could. 'You are as swift as the winds!' I said and laughed. 'And that shall be your name! Lintëmi Súrë!' And so she has been known to us all."

"But after so long, you do know her real name," said Merry. "Don't you?" "Hoom, ha, perhaps. But I will not tell you now, for that name is for Súrë give when she deems right. Come now! Let us continue! I hear Súrë approach."

At nightfall he brought them to his ent-house: nothing more than a mossy stone laid upon turves under a green bank. Rowan trees grew in a circle around it, and there was water (as there is in all ent-houses), in the form of a spring bubbling out from the bank. Súrë started a small fire for their comfort as the night air chilled, and they talked for a while as darkness fell on the forest. Not far away the voices of the Entmoot could still be heard; but now they seemed deeper and less leisurely. Every now and then one would rise in a high and quick music, and all others would die away. But with them Bregalad spoke gently in their own tongue; and they learned that he belonged to Skinbark's people, and the country where they lived had been ravaged. That seemed quite enough to explain his 'hastiness' to the hobbits; at least in the matter of Orcs.

"There were rowan-trees in my home," said Bregalad softly, and sadly, "rowan-trees that took root when I was an Enting, many many years ago in the quiet of the world. The oldest were planted by the Ents to try and please the Entwives; but they looked at them and smiled and said they knew where whiter blossoms and richer fruit were growing. Yet there are no tree of all that race that are more beautiful to me. And they grew until their shadows were like green halls and their berries in the autumn were red burdens, and a beauty and a wonder. Birds used to flock there. I like birds, even when they chatter; and rowan trees have enough and more to spare. But the birds became unfriendly and greedy, and they tore at the trees with their beaks and threw down the fruit without eating it. Then Orcs came with their axes and cut down my trees. I came and called them by their names, but they did not hear or answer me: they lay dead."

He began to sing a soft, lamenting song. Sparing just enough thought to make pillows of their cloaks, Merry and Pippin, as they had the night before, fell asleep to the sounds. The soft singing of Bregalad, though she had heard the song many times before, brought misted tears to Makoto's eyes. His voice seemed to lament in many tongues, all of which she knew, the fall of the rowan trees that he had loved. She covered the hobbits with her cloak, for she could not provide them with blankets and did not need one for herself.

"Someday, Bregalad, I shall find you a rowan," Makoto said to herself in her native tongue. "Someday I shall find you many rowans."

It was a silly promise, she knew, and it was a promise never to be kept. But despite that it was a promise that Makoto made to herself each time she heard Bregalad's song. Her hands strayed to Pippin's curly hair and she began to stroke it as if he were a child in need of comfort. In so many ways he seemed to her a child, and yet neither he nor Merry were children. Makoto smiled softly at the dear hobbits.

"Hmm, hoom, you should take some rest as well, Súrë. Makoto."

"I am yet unweary, Bregalad. But I thank you for your concern."

"All the same, little Elfling, you should take some rest. Your hobbits shall not go without protection if you do," Bregalad said and to Makoto his voice seemed chiding.

Her human blood demanded that she keep awake nonetheless, but her elvish blood and her entish habits were victorious. Makoto conceded defeat. "Aye, Bregalad, I know that well. Forgive me for doubting you. I mean you no offense."

"And you have not offended me, Makoto. Hm, what was it the trees called you long ago? I find I can hardly remember now. 'Mako-chan', was that it?"

"'Mako-chan'," Makoto repeated softly. A saddened smiled crossed her lips, "My mother used to call me that when I was a child ... I will sleep now, Bregalad. I will see you in the morning."

"You will sleep the Manish sleep?"

"Aye."

"Dream good dreams, then."

"Thank you. Good night," Makoto turned to her charges to make sure they were still well wrapped in her cloak. Satisfied at last that they were, she settled herself on the ground by them and let sleep claim her.

The next day was spent also in Bregalad's company, but this day they did not go far from his 'house'. Most of the time the hobbits and Makoto sat silent under the shelter of the bank, for the wind was colder, and the clouds closer and greyer; there was little sunshine and in the distance the voices of the Ents at the Moot still rose and fell. Sometimes the voices were loud and strong, sometimes they were low and sad, sometimes quickening, and sometimes slow and solemn as a dirge. Every now and then Merry could have sworn that he heard Makoto singing under her breath, but when he looked at her, her lips did not move. He wondered if it was an Elvish trick but did not press to ask as he might have were they not in the Forest. Had he still been a simple hobbit in the Shire, rather than a simple and scared hobbit out in the world he had never truly cared to travel. Merry wondered if Pippin felt the same way. A second night came and still the Ents held conclave under hurrying clouds and fitful stars.

The third day broke, bleak and windy. At sunrise the Ents' voices rose to a great clamour such that neither hobbit had ever expected and then died down again. As the morning wore on the wind fell and the air grew heavy with expectancy. The hobbits could see that Bregalad was now listening intently, although to them, down in the dell of the ent-house, the sound of the Moot was faint. And suddenly they noticed that Súrë had gone. The afternoon came, and the sun, going west towards the mountains, sent out long yellow beams between the cracks and fissures of the clouds. Suddenly the hobbits became aware that everything was very quiet; the whole forest stood in listening silence. Of course, the Ent-voices had stopped. What did that mean? Bregalad was standing up erect and tense, looking back northwards towards Derndingle, but Makoto had disappeared from sight.

Then with a crash came a great ringing shout: ra-hoom-rah! The trees quivered and bent as if a gust had struck them. There was another pause, and then a marching music began like solemn drums, and above the rolling beats and booms there welled voices singing high and strong.

_We come, we come with roll of drum: ta-runda runda runda rom!_

The Ents were coming: ever nearer and louder rose their song:

_We come, we come with horn and drum: ta-runa runa runa rom!_

Bregalad picked up the hobbits and strode from his house.

Before long they saw the marching line approaching: the Ents were swinging along with great strides down the slope towards them. Treebeard was at their head, and some fifty followers were behind him, two abreast, keeping step with their feet and beating time with their hands upon their flanks. As they drew near the flash and flicker of their eyes could be seen.

"Hoom, hom! Here we come with a boom, here we come at last!" called Treebeard when he caught sight of Bregalad and the hobbits. "Come, join the Moot! We are off. We are off to Isengard!"

"To Isengard!" the Ents cried in many voices.

"To Isengard!"

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, excitement suddenly coursing through them.

"D'you hear that, Pip? Isengard! They've chosen war."

"I hear Merry," Pippin replied.

A gleam was back in his eyes that Merry had not seen in a very long time, and it was soothing in a strange sort of way. It was mischievous. Pippin looked about the Ents for a sign of Súrë, but found none. "Where do you suppose Súrë has gone off to? I would think that she would be the one to head the army."

Merry now looked about as well. He could see nothing of the Elfling among the Ents nor in the trees ahead of them. "Perhaps she has gone back to Treebeard's home to retrieve something. I do not think that she would leave us alone to take all the glory of bringing down Saruman."

"Hm, ha, hoom, like as not she will be there. She is quick to battle if she believes it worthy. Fear not, young Pippin, she will be there," Bregalad said.

_To Isengard! Though Isengard be ringed and barred with doors of stone:  
__Though Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone,  
__We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door:  
__For bold and bough are burning now, the furnace roars –- we go to war!  
__To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we come:  
__To Isengard with doom we come!  
__With doom we come, with doom we come!_

So the Ents sang as they marched southwards.

Bregalad swung into line beside Treebeard, his eyes shining. The old Ent took the hobbits from him, and settled them upon his shoulders again, and so they rode with heads held high and beating hearts at the front of the singing company. Though they had expected something to happen eventually, they were amazed nonetheless at the sudden change that had come over the Ents. It seemed as if the sudden bursting of a flood that had been long held back by a dike now came forth. But the hobbits were still puzzled by the sudden disappearance of Súrë, despite Bregalad's assurances.

"So the Ents made up their minds quickly after all, didn't they?" said Pippin after some time, during a pause in the singing when only beating hands and feet could be heard.

"Quickly?" said Treebeard. "Hoom! Yes, indeed."

"Quicker than I expected!" chirped Makoto from beside them, where she rode upon Bregalad's shoulders.

"Súrë!" cried Merry, "We thought you'd gone off and left before the battle!"

"But Bregalad told you I would come, did he not?"

"Well, yes – "

"And so here I am!" said Makoto firmly. "Fear not, for I would not desert you before this battle. I have been about much of the Forest this morning, gathering things that may yet be needed. Though I should like to speak with Aragorn before we begin."

On that subject she would say no more. The clamour of the Ents droned on around them, and Treebeard looked about the company.

"Indeed, I have not seen them roused like this for many an age. We Ents do not like being roused; and we are never roused unless it is clear that our trees and our very lives are in great danger. But that has not happened here since the wars of Sauron and the Men of the Sea. It is the orc-work, the needless hewing of our trees without even the bad excuse of feeding fires that has us so angered; and the treachery of our neighbor, who should have helped us. Wizards ought to know better: they do know better! There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men bad enough for such treachery! Down with Saruman!"

"I'm quite sure I could think of a few very good curses in the tongue of my people," Makoto said to herself, "but perhaps this is not the time."

"Will you really break the doors of Isengard?" asked Merry.

"Ho, hm, well, we could, you know! You do not know, perhaps, how strong we are. You maybe have heard of Trolls in the tales of old? They are very strong, but they are only a counterfeit, made by the Enemy in the Great Darkness. They were made in mockery of the Ents, as the Orcs were of Elves. We are stronger than Trolls. We are made of the bones of the Earth. We can split stone like the roots of trees, only much quicker, if our minds are roused! If we are not cut down, or destroyed by fire, blast, or sorcery, we could split Isengard into splinters and rubble."

"But Saruman will try to stop you, won't he?"

"You can be sure of that, Master Merry," Makoto interjected, "but we shall march anyway and shall not stop until he has been rendered powerless."

"Hm, ah, yes, that is so," Treebeard said. "I have not forgotten it. Indeed, I have thought about it for some time. But what Súrë says is equally as true. Many of these Ents here are younger than I am, by many lives of trees. They are all roused and their mind is on one thing: breaking Isengard. They will start thinking before long; they will cool down when we take our evening drink. But let them march and sing now! We have a long way to go, and there is time ahead for thought."

Treebeard marched on, singing with the others for a while, and fairly ignoring the hobbits, who were burning with questions. Makoto sang as well for a short time, but soon their voices died to a murmur, and then both fell silent. Pippin could see that Treebeard's old brow was wrinkled and knotted, and when he looked across to Súrë, her face was drawn in intense contemplation. At last Treebeard looked up, and Pippin could see a sad look in his eyes. Sad, but not unhappy. There was a light in them, as if the green flame had sunk deeper into the wells of his thought.

"Of course, it is likely enough, my friends," he said slowly, "that we go to _our_ doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. That thought has been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now maybe the last march of the Ents will be worthy of a song. Aye," he sighed. "We may be able to help the other peoples before we pass away."

The Ents went striding on at a great pace. Merry was sure that not even Aragorn would have been able to catch them. They had gone down into a long fold of the land that fell away to the south; now they began to climb up, and up, onto the high western ridge. The woods fell away and they came to scattered groups of birch, and then to bare slopes where only a few, gaunt pine-trees grew. The sun sank behind the dark hill-back in front and grey dusk fell.

Pippin looked behind, to see the goings-on of the rest of the company. The number of Ents had grown – or what was happening? Where the bare slopes that they had crossed should have been, he thought he saw groves of trees. But they were moving! He rubbed his eyes, wondering if sleep and dim light had deceived him; but the great grey shapes moved steadily onward. There was a noise like wind in many branches among them.

"Yes, Pippin. Those are the trees of the Forest you see," Súrë said quietly, her face no longer clouded in thought, but turned towards them. Her eyes seemed much greener than they were in the Forest. "They have roused themselves to answer the call of their herders. The trees of Fangorn Forest are awake, and they march to war with us."

The Ents were drawing near to the crest of the ridge now, and all song had stopped. Night fell, and there was silence: nothing was heard save the faint quiver of the earth beneath the feet of the Ents, and a rustle, the shade of a whisper as to many drifting leaves. At last they stood upon the summit, and looked down into a dark pit: the great cleft at the end of the mountains that Súrë had shown them: Nan Curunír, the Valley of Saruman.

"Night lies over Isengard," said Treebeard.

"I aure ú-arathan an-Curunír," said Súrë, darkly, and neither Merry nor Pippin asked to know the meaning.

**OTHER NOTES**  
And I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell happened to me. Basically: Life. I decided to become a techie at my school; meaning I switched from the vocal department to the tech theater department. I don't regret that choice one bit, but it has given me a lot of extra work to do, and taken away the majority of the time I had to write. Not only do I have to work during school time, but I have to give up a good part of my time after school to run shows and set up the ones I'm not crewing. I also lost interest in this for a while. I started writing other genres of fanfiction, out of the various anime series, and I started taking requests on my web-site, which have been tying me up a little. I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I'm going to work on finishing all my unfinished stories before I begin any new ones; and I may have to hang up my hat and stop writing Makoto-based fanfiction entirely once I **do** finish what I've started. There are only so many plots I can think of for her.

Also, I don't know how good this was in comparison to the other chapters, if the other chapters were any good at all. The gaps between writing are so long, that I fear for the continuity of style and enthusiasm in general. So please, critism is a necessary thing! I want to know that I'm doing this right, especially for the relatively loyal following I've got. In other notes: the hobbits don't get to know what Makoto said at the end there, but you all do. It's an approximation, seeing as I wrote it, but it should be fairly accurate going by the on-line sources that are available.

I aure ú-arathan an-Curunír

I (the) aure (day) ú- (not-) arathan (will dawn) an- (for) Curunír (Saruman)

The day will not dawn for Saruman


	8. The White Rider

** Note**: I honestly don't expect people to still be following this, but I'm going to finish it for myself if nothing else. This chapter draws on both the book and the movie for certain scenes, and is quite different from either. Certain parts have been moved around for the sake of writing flow, so hopefully it's not too confusing. This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something.  
** Disclaimer**: Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.  
** Warnings**: Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are", and will NEVER realize how wonderful they are. She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even **in** this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

The White Wizard

"My very bones are chilled," said Gimli, making a show of flapping his arms and stomping his feet. He blew on his hands and Legolas could not help but smile a little. Day had come at last. The companions had made such a breakfast as they were able; now in the dawning light they were preparing to search for Makoto and their hobbit friends.  
"And do not forget that old man!" said Gimli. "I would be happier if I could see the print of a boot or two."  
"Why would that make you happy?" said Legolas.  
"Because an old man with feet that leave marks might be just an old man," answered the Dwarf.  
"Maybe," said the Elf, and he nodded to show his acceptance of that point; "but even a very heavy boot might leave no prints here: the grass is deep and springy."  
"That would not baffle a Ranger," said Gimli, "A bent blade of grass is enough for Aragorn to read. But I do not expect him to find any traces. It was an evil phantom of Saurman we saw last night. I am sure of it, even now under the light of day. His eyes are looking out on us from Fangorn now, maybe."  
"It is likely enough. Or perhaps they are Makoto's eyes upon us," said Aragorn, "and yet I am not sure. I can't help but think of the horses. Last night you said they were scared away, Gimli, but I don't think they were. Did you hear them, Legolas? Did they sound like beasts that were terrified?"  
"No," said Legolas. "I heard them clearly. If not for the darkness and our own fear I might have guessed they were beasts that were then wild with some sudden gladness. They spoke as horses do when they meet a friend they have missed for many years."  
"That is as I thought," said Aragorn; "but I cannot say more unless they return. Come! The light is growing fast. Let us look first and guess later – we should begin here, near to our camping-ground and work our way up the slope into the forest. I do not know how we shall find Makoto's home, if she did not leave us a clear trail, otherwise."  
"And what if she has left?" said Legolas suddenly. "I do not feel her presence near-by. Maybe there has been some great happening and now she and the hobbits have moved on to other grounds."  
"To find the hobbits is our errand, whatever we may think of our night visitor or Makoto's promises," answered Aragorn, "If they are together and moved on, there must have been a reason, and we may find the answer in the forest or on these slopes. If some chance has forced them apart, then we must find our answers here anyway. If we find nothing between here and the eaves of the wood, we will make a last search among the ashes of the battle-field. But there is little hope there: the horsemen of Rohan did their work too well."  
The companions searched for some time, crawling and groping on the ground. The tree stood mournfully above them, its dry leaves hanging limp and rattling in the eastern wind. Aragorn moved slowly away. He made his way to the ashes of their watch-fire near the river bank, and then began to retrace his way to the knoll where the battle had been fought. Suddenly he stopped and bent low, his face almost in the grass, then called excitedly to his companions. They came running.  
"Here we find news! This is where our friend hobbits freed themselves to enter Fangorn Forest, likely having no where else to turn in the battle between Rohirrim and orc!" said Aragorn. He held up a broken leaf for them to see, a large leaf of a golden colour that was now faded and turning brown. "Here is a mallorn leaf from Lórien, and there are small crumbs still on it! And see! There are some pieces of cut cord lying here!"  
"And here is the knife that cut them!" said Gimli. He stooped and drew the blade out of a depression, caused by a heavy foot stomping on the object. "It was an orc-weapon," he said, holding it before him gingerly, and looking with disgust at the carved handle. "I am well relieved to see this, though I should like to know how either came to have a free hand to cut their bonds."  
"I can guess well enough," said Aragorn, smiling. "There are some signs here that you have not considered. Both hobbits were prisoners when they came here, so one must have had either hands or feet free. I guess that it was his hands, because this makes the riddle easier, and also because, as I read it, he was _carried_ here by an Orc. The Orc was slain by horsemen and his body dragged to the great fire, from the orc-blood spilled here," he pointed, "and the signs of a heavy thing being dragged. But the hobbit was not noticed, for he was not 'out in the open' – it was night and he still wore his elven-cloak. Likely he was exhausted and hungry, and so it is not to be wondered that when he had cut his bonds he rested and ate some bread before creeping away. I know not which was the first to have freed himself, of course, but we know that both Merry and Pippin are safe with Makoto."  
"Did I not say that Makoto would have them safely?" Legolas murmured to himself, hiding a smile of satisfaction. An Elf, even an Elfling, would never give false truths.  
"Indeed we were wrong for doubting," Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I still would like to see them before we return to Rohan – I would like to know that the old man has not come upon them to do them harm, and I would like to thank Makoto for all she has done. This is her home; we must not be daunted by Fangorn."  
"I do not know which daunts me more: Fangorn, or the thought of the long road through Rohan on foot," said Gimli.  
"Then let us go to the forest," said Legolas. "They are waiting."

"I do not think the wood feels evil," said Legolas sometime later, "whatever the tales may say." He stood under the eaves of the forest, stooping forward as if he were listening and peering into the shadows with wide eyes. "No, it is not evil; or what evil is in it is far away. I catch only the faintest echoes of darkness where the trees' hearts are black. There is no malice near us; but there is watchfulness, and anger."  
"Well, it has no cause to be angry with me," said Gimli. "I have done it no harm."  
"That is just as well," said Legolas, "But nonetheless it has suffered harm. Can you feel how tense it is? There is something happening inside, or going to happen. It takes my breath."  
"I feel the air is stuffy," said the Dwarf, "This wood is lighter than Mirkwood, but it is musty and shabby. It is a wonder someone like Makoto lives here at all."  
"It is old, very old," said the Elf. "So old that I almost feel young again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children. It is old and full of memory. I could have been happy here, if I had come in days of peace, and I can well understand that Makoto is – for it is likely she _did_ come here then."  
"I dare say you could," snorted Gimli. "You are a Wood-elf, anyway, though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, I will go. But keep your bow ready to hand, and I will keep my axe loose in my belt. Not for use on trees," he added hastily, looking up at the tree under which they stood. "I do not wish to meet that old man unawares without an argument ready to hand, that is all. Let us go!"  
With that they plunged into the trees. Legolas and Gimli left the tracking to Aragorn, but there was little for him to see. The floor of the forest was dry and covered with a drift of leaves. He guessed that the two hobbits would have stayed close to the water before meeting Makoto, so he too stayed by it. So it was that he found where Merry and Pippin had stopped to drink and bathe their feet.  
"This is where they were when Makoto first came upon them, I think," said Aragorn, "The marks here are near two days old, and this is where they left the water-side. But I am not sure that this is where they first met, for her footprints are not to be seen."  
"Unless the Elfling met them from up in a tree," said Gimli.  
"And that she would not do unless they had climbed up into one," Legolas retorted. "It is bad manners to greet someone from so high above them."  
"Gentlemen," Aragorn interrupted, "we have still not found Makoto and our friends. Let us go on."  
They came at length to Treebeard's Hill and it's steep, abrupt end, and looked up at the rock-wall. It's rough steps led up to a high shelf and gleams of sun were striking through the hurrying clouds. The forest looked less grey and dreary for it.  
"Let's go up and have a look about us," said Legolas. "I still feel as though my breath is taken from me before I can get it; I should like to taste freer air."  
The companions climbed up. Aragorn came last, moving much more slowly than either Legolas or Gimli: he was scanning the steps carefully. When they reached the top, he smiled.  
"I am sure Merry and Pippin have been up here; there are their marks, and the marks of an Elfling joining them half way up these steps. She was indeed following them by tree, but did not make her appearance to them until they reached this shelf. I wonder if we can see anything from this ledge that will tell us which way they went next?"  
He stood up and looked about, but could see nothing useful. The shelf faced both southward and eastward, but only on the eastern side was the view open. There he could see the tops of the trees descending towards the plain from which they had come. Legolas watched Aragorn a moment, having surveyed the same territory seconds earlier, and the look on his face was thoughtful.  
"We have journeyed a long way round," he said. "We could have all come here safely together if we had left the Great River on the second or third day and moved West. ... Few can foresee whither their road will take them, however, until they come to its end."  
"But we did not wish to come to Fangorn," said Gimli.  
"And yet here we are – and nicely caught in its net," said Legolas. "Look!"  
"Look at what?" asked the Dwarf.  
"There in the trees."  
"I have not elf eyes, Legolas. Where am I to look?"  
"Quiet! Speak more softly! Look!" said Legolas pointing. "Down in the wood, back the way we have just come. Moving from tree to tree, can you not see him?"  
"I see, I see him now!" hissed Gimli. "Look Aragorn! Did I not warn you? There is the old man. All in dirty grey rags: that is why I could not see him at first."  
Aragorn looked and saw the bent figure his companions were watching. It was not far away and moving slowly, and Aragorn thought it looked like an old beggarman, walking wearily and leaning on a rough staff as he was. His head was bowed and he did not look towards them. The Ranger thought that, had they been on different lands, they would have greeted him with kind words; but now they stood silent, each feeling a strange expectancy: something was moving towards them that held a great, hidden power – or menace.  
Gimli watched with wide eyes for a while, as the figure came nearer with each step. Then suddenly he was unable to contain himself and he burst out, "Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman – do not let him speak or put a spell on us! Shoot first!"  
Legolas took his bow and bent it, slowly, but it seemed as if some other will resisted him. He held an arrow loosely in his hand, but did not fit it to the string. He fancied that he saw Makoto shaking her head at him, warning him not to be hasty. Aragorn watched, his face intent, and stayed silent.  
"Why are you waiting? What is the matter with you?" asked Gimli in an angry whisper.  
"Legolas is right," said Aragorn quietly, "We may not shoot an old man like this, unaware and unchallenged, whatever fear may be upon us. Watch and wait!"

At that moment the old man quickened his pace, and came to the foot of the rock-wall with a surprising speed. Then suddenly he looked up, while they stayed motionless, looking down. No sound came. They could not see his face: he was hooded, and over his hood he wore a wide-brimmed hat, shadowing all his features but the end of his nose and his grey beard. And yet it seemed to Aragorn that he saw a glimpse of keen and bright eyes from within the shadows of the hooded brows.  
At last the old man broke the oppressive silence. "Well met, my friends," he said in a soft voice. "I wish to speak to you. Will you come down, or must I come up?" But without waiting for an answer, he began to climb the steps.  
"Now!" cried Gimli, "Stop him, Legolas!"  
"Did I not say that I wished to speak with you?" said the old man, "Put away that bow, Master Elf!" The bow and arrow fell from Legolas' hands, and his arms hung at his sides. "And you, Master Dwarf, take your hand from your axe 'till I am up! You will not need it."  
Gimli started and then stood still as if by some other will, staring at the old man as he climbed the rough steps nimbly. All weariness seemed to have left the old man. As he stepped onto the shelf to join the three companions there was a quick gleam of white – to brief for them to be certain – as if some garment, shrouded by the grey rags, had been revealed. Gimli breathed in sharply and loudly, and made a hissing sound.  
"Well met, I say again!" said the old man, coming towards them. Keeping still, the companions let him walk towards them. He stepped up onto a large rock, and bent over his staff, peering at them from under the wide brim of his hat. "And what might you being doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf – and all clad in elven-cloaks! No doubt there is a great tale to be heard here. Such things are rarely seen here."  
"You speak as one who knows Fangorn Forest well," said Aragorn. He wondered if he might be an acquaintance of Makoto's. "Is that so?"  
"Not well," said the old man, "To know Fangorn 'well' would require the study of many lifetimes. But I come here now and again and I know some of the inhabitants well enough."  
"Might we know your name, and hear what you have to say to us?" asked Aragorn, "Time passes and we have an errand that cannot wait."  
The old man smiled, "I have said what I wished to say: What are you doing, and what is your tale? As for my name!" he broke off, laughing softly.  
Aragorn felt a shudder run through him at the sound, a strange thrill. It was not fear or terror that he felt: rather it was like a cold rain waking an uneasy sleeper. He wondered how Legolas and Gimli held up to the sound, and a quick glance proved that at least the Dwarf felt the same shudder he had. Legolas seemed to be thinking on something else – Aragorn thought that the Elf might be thinking similarly that the old man knew Makoto.  
"My name," said the old man again, "Have you not already guessed it? You have heard it before, I think: Yes, you have heard it many times. But come now, what of your tale?"  
The three companions stood silent and gave no answer.  
"There are some," said the old man genially, "who would begin to doubt that your errand is fit to tell. Happily I know something of it already. You are searching for two hobbits who are in the care of an Elfling. Now, don't stare as if you have never heard those names before. The two young hobbits climbed these very steps but four days ago when they were met by her, as promised, which she told you of herself. Does that comfort you? And now you would like to know where they have been taken? Did not your Elfling friend tell you? But maybe I can give you some news about that anyway. So you see that your errand is no longer so urgent. Indeed time passes, but it brings with it another errand for you."  
The old man turned away and stepped off the rock. Immediately the others relaxed and could move again, as if some spell had been removed. Gimli's hand went to his axe, Aragorn drew his sword, and Legolas picked up his bow. The old man turned to face them once more, his cloak drawing apart enough for them to see that beneath it he was clothed all in white.  
"Saruman!" cried Gimli, leaping towards the old man with his axe in hand. "Speak! What do you know of our friends and the Elfling? What have you done with them? Speak, or I will make a dent in your hat that even a wizard would find hard to deal with!"  
The old man was too quick for Gimli. His cloak and hat were thrown aside and his garments shone a bright white. He lifted up his staff and Gimli's axe fell from his hands to the ground. Aragorn's sword, still motionless in his hand, blazed with a sudden fire so that the Ranger dropped it from the shock. Legolas cried out and shot an arrow high into the air: it disappeared in flames.  
"Mithrandir!" he cried, "Mithrandir!"  
"And well met I say again, Legolas," said the old man.  
The companions gazed at him in wonder. Everything about the old man was white – his hair was white as snow in sunshine and his robes gleamed white even in the dark of Fangorn. His eyes were bright and piercing, like rays of sun. They stood, caught between wonder, joy, and fear, and could find nothing to say.  
At last Aragorn stirred, "Gandalf! Beyond all hope you have returned to us!"  
Gimli sunk to his knees, saying nothing and shielding his eyes.  
"Gandalf ... " the old man repeated, as if trying to remember a long disused word, "Yes. That was my name. I was Gandalf." He stepped down from the rock and picked up his cloak, wrapping it about him, and his voice was that of their old friend and guide. "Get up, my good Gimli. No blame to you and no harm to me – none of you has any weapon that could hurt me. Be merry! We meet again, at the turning of the tide." He laid his hand on Gimli's head and the Dwarf looked up.  
He laughed suddenly, "But Gandalf! You are all in white!"  
"Yes. I am Gandalf the White now. Perhaps one would say I _am _Saruman; Saruman as he should have been. I have passed through fire and deep water since we parted in Moria. I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, though I have also relearned much. Quickly then, tell me of yourselves!"  
And once again Aragorn was left to tell the tale. The Ranger did so, keeping it quite short and to the point. For the length of it Gandalf said nothing and asked no questions – though it seemed to Legolas that he smiled at the mention of the Elfling. When Aragorn spoke at last about Boromir and his last journey on the Great River, the old man sighed.  
"You have not said all you know or guess, my friend. Poor Boromir ... it was a sore trail for such a man, such a warrior, to sanction the destruction of the Ring. I am glad it did not claim him in the end. There you see - it was not in vain that the Hobbits came with us, even if only for Boromir's sake. Unworldly little creatures. And now they have come to Fangorn and who would have foreseen it? It is like the falling of small stones that start an avalanche. Listen. You hear the rumblings. Oh yes, Saruman had best not be caught at home when the dam bursts."  
"In this, at least, you haven't changed – you still speak in riddles," said Aragorn.  
"In riddles?" asked Gandalf, "No, for I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person to speak to. The explanations required of the young are tiresome indeed."  
"I am not so young anymore."  
"What shall I say then?"  
"The hobbits, and Makoto – where are they?" Gimli asked, unable to contain the question any longer.  
"Ah, is that the name she gave you?" Gandalf asked, and a small smile played about his lips. He spoke again before any could comment on his words, "She and the Ents have them in their care."  
"The Ents!" said Aragorn, "Then there is truth in the legends? Are there still Ents in the world? For I thought I had heard Makoto mention them once when we first met, but did not think on it. I thought they were only a memory of ancient days, if indeed they were ever more than a legend of Rohan."  
"Legend of Rohan!" said Legolas, properly indignant, "Nay, every Elf in Wilderland has sung songs of the Onodrim and their sorrow. Yet even to us they are only a memory. If I met one I would indeed feel young again."  
"I think, Legolas, that you may yet meet one. For Makoto has lived among them for a long time, they tell me. Even now she and the hobbits will be with Treebeard," said Gandalf.  
"Treebeard!" cried the Dwarf, "She brought the hobbits to him? You speak of him as a friend, and yet I have heard that he is dangerous."  
"Oh, he is dangerous. But so am I. Perhaps more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you were brought alive before Sauron himself. Makoto also is dangerous, Aragorn is dangerous, and Legolas is dangerous. You are beset with dangers, Gimli, for you too are dangerous in your own fashion. Certainly the forest of Fangorn is perilous and Fangorn himself is perilous, and yet he is wise and kindly. Now his long, slow wrath is brimming over, and the forest is filling with it, but Makoto will not let harm come to Merry and Pippin. I have words for you from Makoto. She bid me say:_Your friends rest well in the depths of Fangorn.__No harm shall befall those places that cannot be found.__Look forward – we shall meet when the horn sounds_.A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."  
"What will they do?" asked Legolas in astonishment.  
"That I do not know," said Gandalf, and bowed his head in thought. At last he looked up and gazed at the sun. "The morning is wearing away. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

**OTHER NOTES  
**Just to stop confusion before it starts: There are reasons why Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli went on looking for Merry and Pippin even after Makoto told them they were in Fangorn.  
1) She hadn't found them _yet_ at that point.  
2) Aragorn wanted to see them to know they really were safe because he still doesn't totally trust her.  
3) How else were they going to meet up with Gandalf? Even I'm not going to change the book that much.


	9. The King of the Golden Hall

Title: Lumbulëssë Caita Estel

Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope  
Pairing: n/a  
Type: AU; X-over; action/adventure; fantasy  
Rating: PG

**Note:** Thank you to those of you who reviewed, you're all lovely. Even the Fabulous Anonymous 'S'. I can only assume you were talking about my warnings, since you neglected to specify. And if you really were talking about that; you were just a bit late for the bitching, dear - my warning message has been up since I started this fic. Anyway. This is going up in honor of Girl-chama-san, who has always encouraged me and provided much constructive criticism when I felt my stories were lacking in something. Also, there is no Makoto or the hobbits in this (except in mention), as follows in the book. But, they get their own special chapters.

**Disclaimer:** Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for The Two Towers. Usagi is NOT betrayed by any senshi. She does NOT realize "how the senshi really are". She does NOT dump Mamoru, and Mamoru does NOT dump her. She does NOT gain new powers. She does NOT go to another dimension. She does NOT run off into the Wild Blue Yonder with the Outer senshi. Come to think of it, she's not even in this. If you have a problem with this, then leave; otherwise your prerogative is furthermore inane.

* * *

The King of the Golden Hall

Gandalf wrapped himself in his grey cloak again and led the way from the high shelf. They descended quickly and made their way through the forest, down the bank of the Entwash. They spoke no more until they stood upon the grass beyond the eaves of Fangorn. Legolas looked behind him into the dim forest a last time, as though he might see the hobbits, or an Ent, or Makoto, but looked ahead again. There was no sign of their horses.

"They have not returned," he said. "The walk will be long and tiring."

"We will not walk," said Gandalf, "Time presses."

Then he lifted his head and gave a long whistle. So clear and piercing was the sound that the others were surprised to hear such a note come from old, bearded lips. Three times he whistled; then it seemed that from the plains they heard the whinny of a horse borne upon the eastern wind. They waited, wondering, and before long there came the sound of hoofs on the ground.

"There is more than one horse coming," said Aragorn.

"Certainly," said Gandalf, "We together are too heavy for one."

"There are three," said Legolas, looking across the plain, "There is Hasufel, and there is my friend Arod beside him! But there is another that runs ahead; a great horse. I have not seen the like of him before."

"Nor will you again," Gandalf said, nodding. "That is Shadowfax. He is the chief of the Mearas, the lords of horses. Not even Théoden, king of Rohan, has ever looked on better. He has come for me, the horse of the White Rider, and we are going to battle together."

Even as the old wizard spoke, the horses came running up the slope towards them. As soon as Shadowfax saw Gandalf he checked his pace, and whinnied loudly, then trotted forward and nuzzled his nose against the old man's neck. Soon after the other horses came up and stood by, as if awaiting orders.

Gandalf caressed Shadowfax and addressed the horses gravely, "We go at once to Meduseld, the hall of your master, Theoden. We beg that you use all the speed that you can." Then he mounted the great horse.

"Now I understand a part of last night's riddle," said Legolas as he sprang onto Arod's back. "Whether they fled in fear at first or not, our horses met Shadowfax last night. They greeted him with joy. Did you know he was near, Gandalf?"

"Yes, I knew, for I bid him to make haste. Yesterday he was far to the south of this land. Now he will steer for us the straightest path to the hall of Théoden under the slopes of the White Mountains. The ground may be firmer in the Eastemnet, but Shadowfax knows the way through every fen and hollow."

For many hours they rode through the riverlands. They came upon many hidden pools and acres of sedge above treacherous bogs, but Shadowfax found the way and he other horses followed in his swath. Slowly the sun sank down from the sky in the west. Low upon the edge of sight shoulders of mountains glinted red on either side. They rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night. When at last they halted even Aragorn was stiff and weary. Gandalf allowed them only a few hours rest, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli slept. But the old wizard stood, leaning on his staff, gazing east and west into the darkness. There was no sign of any living thing.

* * *

The night was barred with long clouds when they arose again. Under the cold moon they went on, as swiftly as by the light of day. Hours passed and still they rode on, Gandalf and Gimli on Shadowfax leading the way. Gimli nodded and would have fallen from his seat had not the old wizard held tight and shaken him. Arod and Hasufel, weary but proud, followed their tireless leader. Aragorn was silent sitting atop Hasufel, his eyes looking blindly at the road ahead, but his mind whirled with the events of the day.

"Is there something amiss, Aragorn?" Legolas asked, quietly as the Elves may.

"Your elf-eyes are perceptive even in the dark of night," the Ranger said, a tired smile in his voice, "There are things that have been said, and that have not been said, since Gandalf came back to us, that plague my mind. I would ask of him but for fear that we might be slowed by talk. I feel he knows more about Makoto than he has said, and I would like to hear the whole of his story of escape from the fall."

"That is a tall order to ask of a wizard who speaks in riddles," Legolas said, his voice gently teasing. "We will hear his tale in time, when there is time for it."

The miles went by. The moon sank into the cloudy West. A bitter chill came into the air. In the East the dark slowly turned to the cold grey of pre-dawn. Red shafts of light leapt above the Emyn Muil far to their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a wind swept across their path. Suddenly Shadowfax stopped and neighed, and Gandalf pointed ahead.

"Look!" he cried. They lifted their tired eyes. Before them stood the mountains of the South. Grass-lands rolled the hills clustered at the feet of the mountains, and flowed into many valleys still untouched by the light of dawn. Immediately before them the widest of these valleys opened like a long gulf among the hills. Far inward they saw a mountain mass with one tall peak. About its feet there flowed the stream that issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold.

"Speak, Legolas!" said Gandalf. "Tell us what you see."

Legolas gazed ahead, shading his eyes from the newly-risen sun, "I see a stream that comes down from the snows," he said. "It comes from the shadow of the vale, and a green hill rises to the east. A dike and a wall and a thorny fence encircle it. There are many roofs of houses that rise from within, and in the middle, set higher than the houses, there stands a great hall of Men. It seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold, and the light of it shines far over the lands. Golden, too, I believe, are the posts of its doors. There are men in armor who stand there, but all other inhabitants of the courts are yet asleep."

"Edoras are those courts called, and Meduseld is the golden hall," said Gandalf. "There Théoden, son of Thengel, King of the Mark of Rohan lives. We come with the rising of the day, and the way lies clearly before us, but we must ride with more caution now. War is abroad and the Rohirrim, the Horse-lords, do not sleep. Draw no weapon and speak no haughty word, until we are before Théoden's seat."

The morning was clear and bright and the birds were singing as the travelers came to the stream. It ran down swiftly into the plain, flowing away east to feed the Entwash far off in its reed-choked beds. The land was green: along the grassy borders of the stream grew many willow trees, which in this southern land were already feeling the coming of spring. Over the stream there was a ford, trampled from the constant passage of horses. This the travelers passed over and came upon a wide track leading to the uplands. At the foot of the hill, the road ran under the shadow of many high, green hills. Upon their western sides the grass was white as if dusted with light snow, and small flowers grew there like countless stars amid the turf.

"Look!" said Gandalf. "How fare are the bright eyes in the grass. They are called Simbelmynë, Evermind, in this land of Men, for they blossom in all seasons of the year and grow where dead men rest. We have come to the great harrows where the sires of Théoden sleep."

"Seven mounds to the left, and nine mounds to the right," said Aragorn. "Then it has been many long lives of men since the golden hall was built."

"Five hundred autumns have come and gone in my home in Mirkwood since then," said Legolas, "and yet it seems only a little while to us."

"But to the Riders of the Mark it seems so long ago, that the raising of this hall is but a memory in song and the years before are lost to the mists of time," said Aragorn, "And now they call this land their home, their own, and their language has been sundered from their northern kin. It is slow tongue, likely unknown to any but themselves." He began to chant in the language of Rohan, unknown to the Elf and Dwarf. Yet they listened, for there was strong music in it.

"It is like the land itself, rich and rolling in parts, and hard as the mountains in others. I cannot guess what it means," said Legolas, "save that it is filled with the sadness of Mortal Men."

"In the Common Speech," said Aragorn, "as clear as I can make it, it runs thus:

_Where now the horse and the rider?  
Where is the horn that was blowing?  
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?  
Where is the hand on the harp string, and the red fire glowing?  
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?  
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow:  
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.  
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,  
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?_

So spoke a poet, now forgotten, long ago in Rohan, recalling how tall and fair was Eorl the Young, who rode down out of the North. There were wings on the feet of his steed, Felaróf, father of horses. So men still sing in the evening."

* * *

As Aragorn finished his speech, the travelers passed the silent mounds, following the path up the green shoulders of the hills, until at last they came to the wide wind-swept walls and gates of Edoras. At the gates sat many men in bright mail, and they leapt to their feet at once and barred the way with spears. 

"Stay, strangers unknown!" they cried in the tongue of the Riddermark, and demanded to know the names and errand of the travelers. They looked upon the Elf and the Dwarf with wonder, but little friendliness, and they looked darkly on Gandalf.

"Doubtless Makoto would not approve of their manners, as she did not Éothain's," Aragorn murmured to Legolas.

"Well I do understand your speech," the wizard said in the language of Rohan; "yet few strangers do so. Why do you not speak the Common Tongue, as is custom in the West, if you wish to be answered?"

"King Théoden has ordered that none should enter his gates save those who know our tongue and are our friends. None are welcome here in times of war but our own folk, and those from Mundburg in Gondor. Who are you that come over the plain, riding horses like our own? Long have we kept guard and watched you from afar, and never have we seen riders so strange, nor a horse more proud than he that bears you. He is one of the Mearas, unless our eyes are cheated by some spell. Say, are you not a wizard, some spy from Saruman, or phantoms of his craft? Speak swiftly!"

"We are no phantoms," said Aragorn, "nor do your eyes cheat you. For these are your own horses that we ride, lent to us by Éomer, Third Marshal of the Mark, not two days ago. We are bringing them back as we promised. Has he not returned and given warning of our coming?"

A troubled look came to the guards eyes. "Of Éomer I can say nothing," he said, "If what you tell me is true than doubtless Théoden will have heard of it. Maybe your coming was not wholly unlooked for. Only two nights ago Wormtongue came and said that by the will of Théoden no stranger should pass these gates."

"Wormtongue?" Gandalf asked, looking sharply at the guard, "Say no more. My errand is not to Wormtongue, but to the Lord of the Mark himself, and I am in haste. Will you not go or send to say that we are come?"

"Yes, I will go," the guard answered slowly, "But what names shall I report? And what shall I say of you?"

"I am Gandalf; I have returned and I too bring back a horse. This is Shadowfax the Great, whom no other hand can tame. Here beside me is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Here are Legolas the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf. Go now and say to your master that we are here and we would speak with him if he will let us into his hall."

"Strange names you give!" said the guard, "Wait here a while and I will bring you what answer seems good to him. Do not hope too much! These are dark times." He went swiftly away, leaving them in the watchful keeping of his comrades. Some time later he returned. "Théoden gives you leave to enter, but any weapon that you bear you must leave at the threshold. The doorwardens will keep them. Then you will follow me."

The dark gates were swung open. The travelers entered, walking in file behind their guide. They walked upon a broad path paved with hewn stones, winding upwards, sometimes climbing in short flights of steps. Legolas thought they were not unlike the steps they had climbed in Fangorn Forest, save that they were Man made. This caused him to remember Makoto's message suddenly: what had her last words meant? She spoke as though she possessed the gift of foresight, as did the Lord Elrond. He passed the many houses made of stone almost unseeing, lost in his thoughts, and came out of them only when they reached the crown of the hill. There stood a high platform; a high stair went up the green terrace to the platform, and on either side of the top step were stone chairs. There sat other guards, with drawn swords across their laps. Their golden hair was braided; the sun was blazoned on their green shields, and when they rose they seemed taller than mortal men.

* * *

"There are the doors before you," said their guide, "I must return to my duty at the gate. Farewell! And may the Lord of the Mark be gracious with you." He turned and went swiftly back down the road.

"Isn't he a very joyful person," Gimli said, and gave a snort.

They climbed the stairs under the watchful eyes of the tall guards. Silently they stood above and said nothing until Gandalf stepped out upon the terrace. Then they spoke a courteous greeting in their own tongue. Then one of the guards stepped forward and spoke in the Common Tongue.

"Hail, comers from afar," he said, "I am the Doorwarden of Théoden, Háma. Here you must give up your weapons before you enter." Legolas gave him his silver-hafted knives, which he handed over with a little flourish, his bow, and his quiver. Following him, Gimli gave to one of the other guards his many axes; numbering six in all. Aragorn too gave over his weapons, his hunting knife, his sword, the Elven dagger – and took note of the surprise that entered the face of the guard he handed them to. Gandalf gave his sword Glamdring.

"Now then. If all is as you wish, let us go and speak with your master," said Gimli.

The guard stopped them, "Your staff. That too must be left at the doors."

"Prudence is one thing, but discourtesy is another," Gandalf said, "The Elfling was right when she mentioned that the Rohirrim have grown haughty. I am old. If I may not lean on my stick, then I shall sit out here until it pleases Théoden to hobble out himself to speak with me."

Aragorn laughed, even as Legolas offered Gandalf his arm to lean upon, "Would you part an old man from his support? Come, will you not let us enter?"

"The staff in the hand of a wizard may be more than just a prop for walking," said Háma, "Yet I believe you are friends who have no evil purpose. You may go in."

The guards lifted the great bars on the doors and swung them slowly inwards. The hall was long and wide and filled with shadows and half-lights, and mighty pillars held up its lofty roof. Here and there bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts from the eastern windows, high under the deep eaves. Through a louver in the roof and the sky showed pale and blue. As their eyes adjusted, the four saw that the floor was paved with stones of many colors; branching runes and strange devices intertwined beneath their feet. They saw too that the pillars were richly carved, gleaming with gold. Many woven cloths hung upon the walls and over their wide spaces marched figures of legend.

The four companions went forward, past the wood-fire burning upon the long hearth in the middle of the hall. They halted before the dias with three steps resting at the far end of the house and facing northwards towards the doors. In the middle of the dias was a great gilded chair, and upon it sat a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but his eyes still burned with a bright light, glinting as he gazed upon the strangers. Behind his chair stood a woman dressed in white. At his feet sat a wizened figure of a man with a pale wise face and heavy lidded eyes.

There was silence. The old man did not move in his chair. At length Gandalf spoke, "Hail, Théoden son of Thengel!"

"I greet you," said the old man, "and maybe you look for welcome here. Yet why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that."

"A just question, lord," said the pale man sitting upon the steps of the dias. "It is not yet five days since the news came that your son Th odred was slain upon the West Marshes: your right hand, Second Marshal of the Mark. In Éomer there is little trust. Even now we learn that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. Such is the hour in which this wanderer chooses to return. Láthspell I name you, Illnews; and ill news is an ill guest they say."

"You are held wise, Wormtongue, and doubtless you are a great support to your master," said Gandalf in a soft voice, "yet in two ways may a man come with evil tidings. He may be a worker of evil; or he may be such as leaves well alone and comes to bring aid only in time of need."

"That is so," said Wormtongue; "but there is another kind: pickers of bones, meddlers in other men's sorrows, carrion-fowl who grow fat on war. What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? It was aid you sought from us the last time you were here. I guess it is likely to tun out the same once more: you will seek aid rather than render it. Do you bring men, horses, swords, spears? That I would call aid; that it our present need. But who are these three ragged wanderers in grey who follow at your tail? And you yourself the most beggar-like of the four!"

"The courtesy of your hall has lessened somewhat of late, Théoden son of Thengel," said Gandalf. "Has not the messenger reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received three such guests. They are dressed in grey for the Elves have clad them, and thus they have passed through the shadow of many perils to your hall."

"Then it is true that you are in league with the Golden Wood?" asked Wormtongue, "It is not to be wondered at: webs of deceit are ever woven in the Dwimordene."

Gimli strode a pace forward, his face set harshly, ready to grant Wormtongue the same tongue-lashing he had given Éomer. But he felt the hand of Gandalf clutch him by the shoulder, and he halted, stiff as stone.

"Wise men speak only of what they know," said Gandalf and suddenly he changed. Casting his tattered cloak aside, he stood up and no longer leaned on his staff; and he spoke in a clear cold tone. "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy words with a witless worm." He raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blocked from the windows; the whole hall was suddenly as dark as night and only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall.

In the gloom they heard Wormtongue's voice hiss: "Did I not say, lord, to forbid his staff? That fool Háma has betrayed us!"

There was a flash, then all was silent, and Wormtongue sprawled on his face. Gimli stepped upon his back as he began to sit up, saying lowly, "I would stay still if I were you."

"Théoden son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the shadows and trusted to twisted tales. I bid you come out and look abroad."

Slowly Théoden left his chair and a faint light grew in the hall again. The woman hastened to the king's side, taking his arm, and with faltering steps the old man came down from the dias and paced softly across the hall. They came to the doors and Gandalf knocked. "Open! The Lord of the Mark comes forth!" The doors rolled back and a keen air came whistling in. A wind was blowing on the hill. "Send your guards to the stairs' foot. And you, lady, leave him with me a while. I will take care of him," said Gandalf.

"Go, Éowyn sister-daughter," said the old king. "The time for fear has passed."

The woman turned and went slowly into the house. As she passed the doors she turned and looked back. Very fair was her face and her long hair was like a river of gold. Slender and tall she was, but strong she seemed, a daughter of kings. Thus Aragorn beheld owyn, lady of Rohan, for the first time in the full light of day. And suddenly she was aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, hiding a power that she yet felt. For a moment she stood, still as stone, then turned swiftly and was gone.

"Now lord, look upon your land. Breathe the free air again!"

"It is not so dark here," said Théoden.

"No. Nor does age lie upon you so heavily on you as some would have you think."

Slowly Théoden drew himself up, as a man that is stiff from bending too long over some dull toil. Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he looked into the opening sky. "Dark have my dreams been of late," he said. "What is to be done?"

"Much," said Gandalf, "But first send for Éomer. Do I not guess rightly that you keep him prisoner, by the counsel of Gríma?"

"It is true," said Théoden. "He rebelled against my commands and threatened death to Gríma in my hall. But I will do as you ask. Send Hama to me. Since he has proven untrustworthy as a doorward, let him become an errand runner." But though his voice was grim, he smiled and Gandalf and as he did so many lines of care were smoothed away and did not come back.

* * *

Gandalf led Théoden to a stone seat, then sat himself before the king on the topmost stair. Quickly now Gandalf spoke. His voice was low and secret, and none save the king heard what he said. But as he spoke the light shone brighter in Théoden's eye, and at last he rose from his seat to his full height.

"Alas that these days should be mine, and should come in my old age instead of the peace I have earned. Alas for Boromir! The young die and the old linger, withering," he said, and clutched his knees in his wrinkled hands.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword-hilt."

Théoden rose and his hand went to his side, but no sword hung from his belt. "Where has Gríma stowed it?" he muttered under his breath.

"Take this, dear lord!" said a clear voice. "It was ever at your service." Éomer was there. No helm was on his head and he wore no mail, but in his hand he held a drawn sword; and he knelt as he offered the hilt to his master.

For a moment in silence Théoden stood looking down at Éomer as he still knelt before him. Neither moved. Then slowly he stretched forth his hand. As his fingers took the hilt, it seemed to the watchers that firmness and strength returned to his thin arm. Suddenly he lifted the blade and swung it shimmering in the air. His voice rang clear as he called a call to arms in the tongue of Rohan.

"Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!  
Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward.  
Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!  
Forth Eorlingas!"

* * *

"Take back your sword, Éomer sister-son," said the king. "Go, Háma, and seek my own sword. Gríma has it in his keeping. Bring him to me also."

"Westu Théoden hál!" cried Éomer. "It is a joy to us to see you return into your own. Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you come only with grief." He took back his sword and stood at attention.

Théoden turned to the old wizard. "Now Gandalf, you said you had counsel to give, if I would hear it. What is your counsel?"

"You have already taken it," answered Gandalf. "To put your trust in Éomer, rather than a man of a crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. To do the deed at hand. Every man that can ride should be sent west at once: we must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we have time. If we fail, we fall. If we succeed, then we will face the next task. Meanwhile your people that are left – your women and children and old – should fly to the refuges you have in the mountains. Delay not; it is their lives that are at stake."

"This counsel seems good to me now," said Théoden. "Let all my people get ready! But you my guests – truly you have said, Gandalf, that the courtesy of my hall is lessened."

"I had fair warning from the Elfling of the Forest. I had hoped it was not so."

"Makoto of Fangorn?" said Théoden, and a smile of nostalgia came to his face. "She has not come to Edoras in many a long year; I was yet young when I last looked on her. Does she still wander the Forest?"

"She wanders as she may," said Gandalf. "I think that you shall see her soon, though perhaps not here in your hall."

"But you are here in my hall. You have ridden through the night, and the morning wears away. You have had neither sleep nor food. A guest-house shall be made ready: there you shall sleep, when you have eaten."

"Nay, lord," said Aragorn. "There is no rest yet for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth and we will ride with them, axe, sword, and bow. We did not bring them to rest against your wall, Lord of the Mark!"

"Now indeed there is hope of victory!" said Éomer.

"Hope, yes," said Gandalf. "But Isengard is strong. And other perils draw ever nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills."

"Nay, Gandalf!" said the king. "I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle if it must be. Thus I shall sleep better."

"Then even the defeat of Rohan will be glorious in song," said Aragorn. "But your people must not be both unarmed and shepherd less," said Gandalf. "Who shall guide them and govern them in your place?"

"I shall give thought to that ere I go," said Théoden, "Here comes my counselor."

At that moment Háma came again from the hall. Behind him cringing between two other men, came Gríma the Wormtongue. His face was very white. His eyes blinked in the sunlight. Háma knelt and presented to Théoden a long sword in a scabbard clasped with gold and set with green gems.

"Here, lord, is Herugrim," he said. "It was found in his chest. Loth was he to give up the keys. Many other things are there which men have missed."

"You lie," said Wormtongue. "And this sword your master himself gave into my keeping."

"And now he required it of you again," said Théoden. "Does that displease you?"

"Assuredly not, my lord," Wormtongue said, his voice silky smooth, "I care for you as best I may. But do not weary yourself or tax too heavily your strength. Let others deal with these irksome guests. Your meat is about to be set on the board. Will you not go to it?"

"I will," said the king, "but let food be set on the board for my guests beside me. The host rides today. Send the heralds forth to summon all who dwell near! All men and lads able to bear arms who have horses, let them be ready in the saddle at the gate ere the second hour from noon! Not one shall be left, not even Gríma. Gríma rides too. Go! You still have time to clean the rust from your sword."

"Mercy, lord!" cried Wormtongue, groveling on the ground. "Send me not from your side! I at least will stand by you when all others have gone. Do not send your faithful Gríma away!"

"I do not send you from my side," said Théoden. "I too ride to war with my men. I bid you come with me and prove your faith."

Wormtongue looked from face to face. In his eyes was the haunted look of a beast seeking a gap in a ring of enemies. He licked his lips with a long pale tongue. "I see that I come too late. Such resolve one would expect from a lord of the House of Eorl, but those who truly love him would spare his failing years. I see others have already persuaded him, whom the death of my lord might grieve less. Hear me at least in this, my lord! One who knows your mind and obeys your commands should be left in Edoras. Let your counselor Gríma keep all things till your return – and I pray that we may see it."

Gimli laughed. "And if that plea does not excuse you from war, most noble Wormtongue," he said, "what office of less honour would you accept? To carry a sack of meal up a mountain if one would trust you with it?"

"Nay, Gimli, you do not fully understand the mind of Master Wormtongue," said Gandalf, turning his piercing gaze upon him. "He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays with peril and wins a throw. Down snake!" he said in a terrible voice, "Down on your belly! How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead were you to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire?"

Éomer grasped his sword, "Too long have you watched my sister. Too long have you haunted her footsteps." He stepped forward, but Gandalf stayed him with his hand.

"Éowyn is safe now," he said, "but you, Wormtongue, you have done what you could for your true master. Some reward you have earned at least. Yet Saruman is apt at forgetting his bargains. I should advise you go quickly and remind him, lest he forget your faithful service."

"You lie," said Wormtongue.

"That word falls too easily from your lips," said the wizard. "I do not lie. See, Théoden, here is a snake! To slay it would be just. But it was once a man and did you service in its fashion. Give him a horse and let him go at once, wherever he chooses. By his choice shall you judge him."

"Do you hear this, Wormtongue," Théoden asked. "This is your choice: to ride with me to war, or to go now wither you will. But then, if we ever meet again, I will not be merciful."

Slowly Wormtongue rose. He looked at them with half-closed eyes. Last of all he scanned Théoden's face, and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then suddenly he drew himself up, and his hands worked and his eyes glittered. Such malice was in them that the men stepped back from him. He bared his teeth; and then with a hissing breath he spat before the king's feet, and darting to one side, he fled down the stair.

"After him!" said Théoden. "See that he does not harm to any, but do not hurt or hinder him. Give him a horse if he wishes it."

"And if any will bear him," said Éomer under his breath.

Legolas and Aragorn heard him, and could not help but smile. One of the guards ran down the stair. The other went to the well at the foot of the terrace and with his helm drew water. With it he washed clean the steps that Wormtongue had defiled.

"Now, my friends, come!" said Théoden. "Come and take such refreshment as haste allows."

"Haste indeed, for we've a reunion of Elf and Elfling that must soon happen," the Dwarf said, not too softly.

Legolas decided he had not heard Gimli, but rather the wind.

* * *

**OTHER NOTES**  
And isn't that a very dramatic place to end this chapter? And look! More deviation from the actual book! Yay! In this case, I'm going to pause now, because we've left Mako and the hobbits for too long, and tell the war of the Ents in the next chapter as a chapter, not as Merry and Pippin's story. This is mostly because I want to have more of Makoto in the fanfiction that is supposed to be about her. 


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